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9 


Stanley Huntingdon. 


A IsTOYEL. 


■ p BY 

SYDNEY J. WILSON. ^ 

/ 


Like an ^olian harp, the human soul 
Eesponds each breath that plays along the string ; 
And as ’tis placed, and as the currents roll. 

So does the music on the breezes ring. 






PRESS OF 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, 

PHILADELPHIA. 


1886 . 




Copyright, 1886, by Sydney J. Wilson. 


PEEFAOE. 


Memphis, August 3, 1886. 

Dr. S. a. Kogers: 

Dear Sir, — The South is disencumbering her- 
self of the ideas and customs that hitherto have 
burdened her steps, and is now moving rapidly out 
into the broad paths of progress. This movement, 
while not altogether, is, to a great extent, due to the 
young generation, — the young men whose youth 
shielded them from the resistless blows that broke 
the spirit of their elders, and who now stand pre- 
pared to guide their country to the lofty eminence 
it is destined to attain. That belief, my dear doctor, 
explains why in seeking a name to which to dedicate 
this work I select yours from among the many other 
eminent names that add lustre to this, one of the 
foremost cities of the South. I find you at twenty- 
one years of age firmly abreast with the times, one 
of the first in your profession, and eminently fitted 
in every way to adorn your high position; so the 
spirit that enables me to appreciate intrinsic worth 


4 


PREFACE. 


whenever discovered prompts me to show thus my 
admiration of you. 

It is useless to weary the reader by paraphrasing 
this work, as I trust its pages lucidly convey their 
lesson ; but allow me to say, as I portrayed the de- 
velopment of mind, and as I was fearful of carry- 
ing the analysis beyond the reader’s patience, he 
may charge me with being too concise where I 
should have been more diffuse, — ^if so, let him but 
remember that the mind can girdle the world in a 
moment with its presence, and I feel assured he will 
withdraw the charge and follow out the train of 
thought there suggested. 

With the wish that this work were more worthy 
your consideration, and the hope that the future 
may witness the full fruition of all that your present 
promises, I am your sincere friend. 


THE AUTHOR. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


CHAPTER I. 

Doubtless the reader is familiar with descrip- 
tions of Southern homes. The very name suggests 
breezy verandas, green lawns, and magnolia groves ; 
so, without further detail, we will enter such a 
home, uninvited guests, to witness the fun and frolic 
that invariably succeed the old-fashioned country 
wedding. Passing through a wide park-gate and 
following the broad sweep of the gravelled drive, 
we discover a low, rambling brick house ablaze with 
light from parlor to kitchen. This is the home 
of the Huntingdons; and it is every way worthy 
the proud, passionate race which has trod its halls 
since before the red man yielded his heritage to 
the encroaching pale-face, — the heritage which now 
comprises the fairest portion of Northwest Missis- 
sippi. 

The family, at the time of which I write, con- 
1 * 6 


6 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


sisted of the widow Huntingdon and her two sons, 
Archie and Stanley. And as Archie, the elder, had 
at ten o’clock that morning sworn to love and cherish 
the daughter of a neighboring planter, we wish, as 
we have intimated before, to be present at the suc- 
ceeding festivities. 

Alighting at the yard-gate, we catch the soft sheen 
of trailing skirts in the capricious moonlight, and 
hear the music of gay young voices ringing out on 
either hand from beneath the dark old forest giants, 
that seem to wag their solemn heads in sage disap- 
proval of the unexpected sounds. Reaching the 
wide portico, whose gleaming white shafts are sur- 
rounded by young couples, whispering their sweet 
nothings in the friendly shadows, and ascending the 
pillared steps, we enter the brightly-illuminated 
parlors, where a string band fills the rooms with its 
ravishing strains, as the lancers, old Virginia reels, 
polkas, and waltzes follow each other in rapid suc- 
cession. Then, following the throng, we find the 
long dining-hall, and watch, with something akin to 
envy, the bright young faces ranging around the 
heavily-laden tables. Meats, pies, puddings, tarts, 
custards, candies, cakes, oranges, etc., disappeared on 
the magic wings of the fortitude engendered by non- 
dyspeptic stomachs. Ye gods! “Once more who 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


7 


would not be a boy and girl also, the noble author 
should have added. 

But let us note that interesting young couple; 
which, having finished the repast, seems to have im- 
portant business upon the now deserted portico. 

One is a slender youth seemingly about nineteen 
years of age ; and, although unformed is written in 
unmistakable characters all over him, there is a sin- 
gular charm in the frank young face. But, as we 
note the small hands, the high-arched feet, the quick 
turn of the noble head, and the lazy fire slumbering 
in the large gray eyes, we wish him safe across the 
threshold into settled manhood. 

His companion, a saucy-lipped, dimpled-cheeked, 
brown-eyed girl, not more than twelve months 
younger than himself, is skilfully parrying his 
whimsical badinage as they promenade to and fro. 

Nearing the southern limit of the portico, they 
unconsciously pause and watch the weird beauty of 
the scene. The moon rides high and bright in the 
heavens ; but broken clouds, rapidly drifting north- 
ward across its face, cause light and shadow alter- 
nately to chase each other along the sombre park ; 
while the wind, rushing through the tossing branches 
of the mighty oaks, sighs and moans as if lament- 
ing the lost ones of earth. 


8 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


As the girl glanced down the dark avenue of 
oaks, and heard the mournful dirge of the wind, 
she shivered slightly and drew nearer to her com- 
panion. 

^^You seem nervous to-night,” the youth said, 
noticing the action. 

‘‘This scene fills me with awe,” she replied. 
“ You who have been reared among these grand old 
trees cannot imagine how it affects less fortunate 
mortals.” 

“ I am glad you like it,” he said, bending nearer. 

“ Like it !” she began, then, catching his meaning 
look, she stammered, blushed, and hung her pretty 
head. 

“Lena,” he said, a soft smile flitting across his 
lips, “ I coaxed you out here for a purpose ; and I 
believe from the blushes dying those cheeks you 
have divined my business. I wish to speak of a 
subject fraught with interest to me ; and, I trust, to 
yourself also. It is useless to speak of my love for 
you, and to ask, ‘ Do you love me in return V as our 
eyes have betrayed us long ago ; but, as you know, 
in a few days my brother takes his bride away, 
leaving my mother and myself alone in this large 
house; so, what more opportune time could we 
choose to consummate our happiness? Look up. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


9 


little one, and name the day that will give me the 
right to transplant you to these ancient oaks.” 

As you have taken my love for granted,” she 
answered, with a saucy pout, you had now better 
name the day yourself, and order me to be ready.” 

I will obey your injunction,” he said, with mock 
gravity. Let me see ; I can dispose of my crops in 
two months, and in that length of time you can 
easily complete your arrangements for making your- 
self too sweet for my peace of mind; so we will 
say two months from to-night, this being the 10th. 
You do not reply, little sweetheart. Did I place 
the time too far away ? if so, I will stretch a point 
and ” 

“ Too far away, indeed !” she cried, with burn- 
ing cheeks. ^^Your self-assurance is really awe- 
inspiring. But I have a great mind to punish your 
impudence by putting the hour twelve months from 
to-night.” 

However lamentable it is to spoil a ^ great 
mind,’ ” he said, with a light laugh, as he drew her 
into the shadow of a column, ^‘that one must be 
sacrificed. Accept this ring, my little darling,” he 
continued, bending softly over her, “ and let me seal 
our compact on those saucy lips. Ah ! It re- 
quires a dozen to make the trade binding. Be still, 


10 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


will you? The music has commenced again,” he 
said, after binding the trade” to his own satisfac- 
tion. Shall we join the dancers?” 

I am happy here,” she whispered, shyly, as she 
slipped her little hand into his. 

But we will leave the foolish children to their 
roseate dreams; they are feeling what thousands 
have felt before, and, alas ! like them, will awake 
to the realization that life affords but few such 
moments. 


CHAPTER 11. 

The Sabbath following the incidents narrated in 
the preceding chapter dawned as only a Southern 
October day can. Indian summer threw its hazy 
mantle over field and forest, and all nature seemed 
in dreamland. Even the usually shrill notes of the 
partridge, and the rat, tat, tat of the woodpecker 
sounded subdued, as if to accord with the slumbering 
quiet that reigned supreme. 

Our two lovers, Stanley Huntingdon and Lena 
Redmond, whose acquaintance we made a few nights 
since, seated in a light buggy, drove from the Hunt- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


11 


ingdon gates and turned westward along a shady 
road. I am constrained to acknowledge that all 
parties interested in this young couple supposed 

that Stanley was taking Lena to her home in B , 

where they, like all dutiful children, would attend 
Sunday-school and church ; but, detecting a guilty 
look upon their faces as Dame Huntingdon cau- 
tioned them about remembering the minister’s text, 
I determined to follow, and discover upon what 
mischief they were intent. So there they go, the 
dappled ponies lazily trotting in exactly an opposite 
direction from Lena’s home ; while they — well, they 
are swapping tender looks, as lovers will, and plan- 
ning a muscadine hunt ; as if the park at home was 
not black with that luscious fruit ! 

After travelling for an hour or more through a 
wild, wooded district, an unusual sound came float- 
ing to them on the morning breeze ; and listening 
intently a few moments, Stanley exclaimed, — 

Our lucky star is in the ascendency ; for, if I 
mistake not, we are nearing a Methodist open-air 
meeting.” 

His surmises proved correct; for as they proceeded 
the sounds increased in volume, until a sharp turn 
of the road revealed a picturesque scene. Upon a 
small board platform stood an aged divine, while 


12 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


grouped around him in every conceivable attitude 
were two hundred or more, men, women, and chil- 
dren, all engaged in singing that soul-stirring hymn. 

On Jordan’s Stormy Banks.” 

The lovers had rebelled against the idea of being 
cooped within the four walls of a church and of 
listening to a play of rhetoric, while all the outside 
world was filled with love and sunshine ; but here, 
where they could use the buggy for a pew and the 
whole world for a meeting-house, it was altogether 
different; and driving up as close as was practicable, 
they listened attentively while the good man painted 
in glowing terms what an undesirable location is 
the sinner’s hell. 

When the picture had been painted, the good 
brothers and sisters had indulged in their Sunday 
shout, the doxology had been sung, and the bene- 
diction had been pronounced, the congregation began 
to disperse, bestowing many a broad stare upon the 
young lovers who had dropped so unceremoniously 
into their midst. 

With the characteristic hospitality of the unsus- 
picious Southerner, so many of the elder members 
surrounded the buggy, urging Stanley and Lena to 
share their ^^con” bread at dinner, that the lovers 
were in something of a dilemma as to whose invita- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


13 


tion to accept until the superior claims of the worthy 
deacon overrode the rest. 

To Stanley and Lena, at least, that dinner seemed 
a fit meal for the gods. Never before had corn 
bread seemed so palatable, milk so cool, butter so 
fresh, or a potato-pie so rich and juicy; and, it is to 
be feared, they somewhat shocked their worthy host 
with their merriment upon a day set apart — by him 
— for long faces, Bible reading, and perhaps a few 
long-metre hymns if he felt unusually festive. Fin- 
ishing the simple meal, the lovers took possession of 
the funereal-looking parlor ; and, opening the anti- 
quated and asthmatic organ, Lena drew from it 
strains that filled the gaping rustics with unsab- 
batical ecstasy. Then becoming muscadine hungry, 
they seized their hats, and under cover of the good 
deacon’s after-dinner nap, stole away to the silent 
woods. 

My bosom thrills with rapture as I feel the up- 
ward sweep of my race, and my spirit leaps awake 
with ecstasy while dreaming of its theurgic future ; 
but to feel the swelling of the pure, primeval soul 
within my bosom that God breathed into the nostrils 
of our first Parent, place me amid the solitudes 
where nature reigns supreme. And as I gaze upon 

that innocent young couple strolling joyously through 
2 


14 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


the quiet shadows of this sylvan forest, and note 
their eyes beaming with the love and happiness of 
uncorrupted hearts, I am almost overwhelmed with 
a superstitious reverence for nature’s subtle, mys- 
terious, and all-pervading power. For as straws 
show in which direction the wind blows, I watch 
the squirrels that would break their necks in frantic 
endeavors to escape the hunter’s sight, whisk their 
bushy tails, and bark boldly at the young lovers, 
see the timid hares hop shyly around them, while 
the forest songsters warble their rarest notes, and it 
arouses a train of metaphysical and psychological 
thoughts that roll olf, unsatisfied, into illimitable 
space. 

Discovering a heavily-laden muscadine vine, 
Stanley swung himself to the top, and under his 
vigorous arm it was soon literally hailing its luscious 
fruit. Descending by the time Lena had filled their 
hats, they then withdrew to a shady bank and ‘^fell 
to” with a will ; but, as their hearts were too light 
to continue long at such an unromantic business, 
they quickly passed from eating to pelting each 
other with the pulpy balls. Then Stanley con- 
cluded to punish her for staining his Sunday suit” 
by kissing her for each time she had hit him. She 
objected on the ground that he had hit her equally 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


15 


as often. He, of course, was willing to submit to 
the same punishment, and, on her continuing to 
refuse, a squabble arose, and bad blood was only 
prevented by a compromise. 

After collecting the compromise, Stanley clasped 
his hands behind his head, and, leaning back against 
the bank, said, slowly, — 

^^The wind is asleep in the branches, the quail 
are asleep in the brake, and my heart is drowsy with 
bliss, — the natural effect of your sugary lips; so 
sing me a song, little one, while Mother Nature 
takes her siesta.” 

She had formed a gaudy cap by pinning the frost- 
tinted leaves together; and, placing this upon her 
clustering curls, she began in pure, bird-like tones 
the following pathetic lines : 

“ A hundred months have passed, Lorena, 

Since last I held that hand in mine, 

And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena, 

Tho’ mine beat faster far than thine. 

A hundred months, — ’twas flowery May, 

When up the hilly slope we climbed, 

To watch the dying of the day, 

And hear the distant church-bells chime. 

t 

“We loved each other then, Lorena, 

More than we ever dared to tell ; 


16 STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 

And what we might have been, Lorena, 
Had but our lovings prospered well 

But then, ’tis past, — the years are gone. 
I’ll not call up their shadowy forms ; 

'I’ll say to them, ‘ Lost years, sleep on. 
Sleep on, nor heed life’s pelting storms.’ 

It matters little now, Lorena, 

The past — is in the eternal past : 

Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena, 
Life’s tide is ebbing out so fast. 

There is a future, oh, thank God I 
Of life this is so small a part ; 

’Tis dust to dust beneath the sod. 

But there, up there, ’tis heart to heart.” 


When the last note died away in distant echoes, 
Stanley turned gravely to her and said, — 

You are surely sad to-day, Lena, as you choose 
those sorrowful words.” 

No,” she answered, dreamily ; but that song 
holds a weird fascination for me ; it is filled with 
such pathos, such tender regrets ; each word seems 
a heart-throb. He who penned the lines surely 
lived their history.” 

‘‘What if its sentiment, some day, became a 
reality to us, Lena ?” 

“ Hush,” she answered, gently, placing her hand 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


17 


over his lips. “If it did, I would wish to go, 
^ there, up there, where ’tis heart to heart.’ ” 

Raising his hand, he toyed with her dimpled 
cheek and clustering ringlets, as he murmured, 
“ We love each other now, my Lena. More than 
our feeble tongues can tell. 

“ This is a grand old world, a glorious lot,” he 
continued, as she smoothed the locks from his brow 
and placed a cap of flaming leaves on his head. 
^‘With our loved ones by our side we tread its 
bright paths till we reach the grave together; we 
are, then, reunited forever, somewhere beyond that 
softly-beaming arch. Who could, ah ! who could 
be a misanthrope while contemplating the love and 
beauty around him, and dreaming of the unimagin- 
able joy in store for him up there?” 

Ah ! dream on, rustic philosopher ; may no rude 
slap from that “ grand old world” ever awaken you. 

“ Stanley,” Lena said, shyly, touching his cheek 
as she rearranged his cap, “I would like to tell 
you something, but I fear you will be angry.” 

“ Have I proven myself such a Turk that you are 
afraid to speak your mind ?” he asked, with a smile. 

“No, no,” she answered, slowly; “but this is 
something serious, — something I dread to mention. 

Do you know Jasper Hewlitt?” 

2 * 


18 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


“ Unfortunately, yes,” Stanley answered, a dark 
scowl sweeping across his brow. “And a more 
shameless libertine, a more abandoned scoundrel, 
never blotted this fair earth with his presence.” 

He was looking up at the sunbeams glancing 
down through the overhanging foliage, and did not 
see the scared look of awful horror these bitter 
words brought to her eyes. But when he turned to 
her with the question, “What about Hewlitt?” on 
his lips, she threw out her hand as if warding off 
some blow and answered, irrelevantly, — 

“I received a letter, yesterday, from brother 
Harry.” 

“ Did it contain ill news ?” 

“No. He wants me to pay him a visit before 
we — before you and — before the 10th of De- 
cember.” 

“You inform the gentleman for me,” Stanley 
said, with an amused smile, “that the Arkansaw 
agues have rattled his none too generous quota of 
brains.” 

“ But, Stanley, remember ” 

“ Whew ! this is getting serious, with a vengeance. 
Why, my dear child, your brother has two other 
sisters to fall back on, while I have only you ; and 
to ask me to spare my all just now is out of the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


19 


question. Later on I may be only too happy to 
accommodate him with your society.” 

But, Stanley, it is two months until — and I 
will only remain with him two weeks ; so, I feel 
sure, when you think of the dear old boy struggling 
all alone in that sickly bottom to make us a living, 
you will spare me.” 

Lifting up his hands in tragic despair, Stanley 
exclaimed, “It no longer puzzles me that Herod 
was unable to refuse Herodias the head of John the 
Baptist, as I would yield up my own, did you plead 
for it with that pretty, pouting look of injured 
innocence. When do you wish to start ?” 

“ About Thursday next, I suppose.” 

“ Very well, I will accompany you to Memphis, 
and see you safe on board the boat.” 

“ You are too good,” she said, softly. “ There ! 
does that repay you for your sacrifice ?” 

“ On the contrary,” he grumbled, “ it reminds me 
of all I will lose during those two weeks.” He had 
risen ; and, standing with his arm thrown across her 
shoulder, he looked earnestly down into the bright, 
smiling face, as he said, in a voice that trembled 
with an undercurrent of deep feeling, — 

“Lena, when you spoke of leaving me for two 
weeks, my mind pictured a future robbed of your 


20 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


presence; and what I saw there convinced me that 
if God took you from me, or if you proved false 
and unworthy, fate would stand my friend did it 
strike me dead with the news. That is, perhaps, a 
weak confession ; but it is, nevertheless, a truthful 
one.” 

What has happened, Stanley?” she asked, look- 
ing up with a frightened look on her sweet, childish 
face. 

Not wishing to shadow the happy young face, 
Stanley left unuttered the passionate love and dark 
forebodings aroused by his rapid glance over future 
contingencies; and, forcing a smile to his lips, he 
answered, playfully, — 

Oh, nothing ; I merely had an attack of the 
heroics, something that I am periodically troubled 
with; or, as the darkies would express it, ^ A Opos- 
sum runned over my grave.’ But we must return 
now, or the good deacon will imagine Elisha’s bears 
are ably convincing us of our naughtiness. You see 
that elm standing ahead in the path. I will wager 
a pair of gloves I can reach it first. Now, one, 
two, three, — Go !” 

Keassured by his merry mood, Lena sprang away, 
with a gay laugh, and on they flew like a couple of 
children loosed from school ; he purposely stumbling 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


21 


and falling so as to allow her time to reach the 
coveted goal, and was amply rewarded by watching 
her sparkling eyes as slie clapped her little hands 
exultingly over the victory. 

Then came their humble apologies to the good 
deacon for their misdemeanor; and, afterwards, 
the long drive homeward in the waning afternoon ; 
the watching of the blood-red sunset, the counting 
of the stars as they woke one by one and twinkled 
merrily down upon them ; the hoot of the solemn 
owl; the lonely cry of the whippoorwill; the 
driving up to a negro church to witness the religious 
bedlam inside ; Stanley’s attempts to collect toll” 
at every bridge and crossway ; his failure in those 
attempts from Lena’s struggles and the antics of 
the frisky ponies ; and then came the acme of sor- 
rowful bliss reached during the lingering kisses and 
clinging embrace as they parted at the doorstep. 


22 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


CHAPTER III. 

As I dislike to describe a railroad journey, if 
possible, more than I dread to make one, I will 
leave untold the getting up before daylight, the 
muddy, scalding coffee, the haste to reach the depot, 
the intelligent answer of the railroad officials, the 
shrieking pandemonium greeting the conclusion, 
and land our young lovers safe in Memphis. There, 
they discover the day and night is before them, as 
the boat which is to carry Lena to her destination 
does not leave until the following morning. 

Securing rooms at the Peabody Hotel, they made 
more elaborate toilets than their haste to catch the 
train would allow, and sallied forth to — the picture- 
gallery, of course. What countryman and his 
sweetheart ever visited the city without having their 
beauties struck,’’ and generally struck together ; 
he unmanneredly sitting down, while she stands 
dutifully by his side, with her hand resting lovingly 
upon his shoulder? After examining the negatives, 
which, in spite of Mr. Bingham’s “ Excellent ; 
superb !” seemed as if they were weeping over the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


23 


grave of their last friend, the lovers issued out 
and began admiring the brilliant display of the 
shop-windows; he purchasing everything which 
attracted her fancy, until bundles multiplied so 
astonishingly that a small boy had to be called into 
service; thus they wandered along, serenely uncon- 
scious of everything save the music in their hearts 
and the roar of vehicles in their ears ; unconscious 
that brisk business men smiled and softened as they 
passed this handsome, guileless couple ; unconscious 
that clerks winked as they entered, much as to say. 
Ah, here comes a rich country chap with his best 
girl and proceeded to charge them war prices for 
the goods. 

When Stanley had purchased all they — and the 
boy — could conveniently carry, they returned to the 
hotel ; and procuring a carriage after dinner, they 
saw the city on wheels.’’ Then came supper, and, 
afterwards, the theatre. 

Through all the eventful after-years of his passion- 
tossed life, that night spent at the play remained 
indelibly stamped upon Stanley’s memory. Many 
a night, while pacing the lagging hours of darkness 
away, has he lived, minute by minute, those short, 
happy hours again, as his mind pictured the bril- 
liantly-lighted building, the crash of music, the 


24 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


faint perfume, the sparkling gems and rich costumes 
worn by his beautiful countrywomen. Ah ! how 
tender was the look which, leaving the contempla- 
tion of the regal beauties about him, sought the shy, 
brown eyes at his side; how he longed to fold her 
in his arms as the music thrilling through him 
touched sleeping chords in his bosom; how their 
hands met in sympathetic ecstasy as the lovers in 
the play uttered some tender or lofty sentiment ; how 
the red lips trembled and the big tears welled up 
as she watched the lover’s mimic sufferings; how 
there was a suspicious moisture in his own manly 
eyes as he witnessed the emotion of the gentle- 
hearted maiden ; how his heart fiercely throbbed 
when, on parting for the night, Lena’s round arms 
stole about his neck as she softly whispered, How 
happy you have made me ! And, oh ! Stanley, should 
anything ever come between us, promise me you 
will act as did that noble lover in the play ;” how 
sincere was the promise given as his kisses lingered 
on the willing lips ; how his blood leaped with such 
riotous ecstasy through his veins that sleep was 
impossible; and how, with cigars innumerable, he 
spent the night pacing the carpeted floor, dreaming 
the dreams of youth and love ! — all this and more, 
would rise before him in later years, stiffening the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


25 


writhing sneer on his lips as it dispersed his well- 
nursed sophisms in air. 

The morning broke (as Southern mornings will 
break at times) serene, balmy, cloudless, and 
glorious; and taking Lena aboard the boat, Stanley 
cautioned her to be careful of her health in that 
malarious district, and to write him three letters a 
week ; then, taking a hasty leave, he turned away. 
But on reaching the door he paused ; and, glancing 
back, he saw Lena standing with clasped hands 
looking after him, with that sleepy light in her soft 
brown eyes which a night of dissipation invariably 
gives to the uninitiated. Thus they looked, a mo- 
meiit, into each other^s eyes, as if each was deciding 
to go with the other and defeat the coming separa- 
tion ; but, after wavering a moment, he broke the 
spell by raising his hat and turning away. 


3 


26 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


CHAPTER IV. 

A NEAT little envelope, with a prim little Mr. 
S. T. Huntingdon’’ traced on its snowy face, fol- 
lowed Stanley to Mississippi; and, while reading 
the girlish effusion, his mind, mirroring the charm- 
ing writer as she traced the lines, moved him with 
an almost irresistible impulse to answer the letter in 
person. But putting the temptation from him, he 
re-read the letter again; then, in answer, covered 
page after page with rustic eloquence. It was such 
a letter as any young and ardent lover would write ; 
untainted with any of that caution which prompts 
one, after a few sharp lessons in life, to veil his fondest 
feelings from even the eyes of the present loved one. 

Riding into town behind his cotton-wagons the 
next day, Stanley put his pony into a livery-stable, 
and was turning his steps towards the post-office 
when he met Susy Clenny, Lena’s bosom friend. 

“I am fortunate,” he said, shaking hands with 
her. I received a letter from Lena yesterday, 
and by way of postscript was a written power of 
attorney delegating to me the exquisite authority to 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


27 


collect, for her, the kisses of all her absent friends ; 
so as you are her David, I will now present my 

No, no,” Susy cried, stepping back in affected 
alarm. ‘‘If my fellow were to hear of my settling 
such bills with a whiskered collector, he would give 
me the frigid vibrate, or, translated into plain Eng- 
lish, the cold shake.” 

“ Jealous-hearted, eh ? Then take my advice 
and shake him at once, or disobey my injunction 
and live to rue it when, during some convulsion of 
the green-eyed monster, he proceeds to bowstring 
you with the buggy lines.” 

The girl looked at Stanley’s laughing face a mo- 
ment ; and, as a strange light leaped to her bright, 
black eyes, she said, in quick, tense tones, — 

“ I have that in my pocket which, did you see it, 
would rouse the monster in your own bosom.” 

“ Try me,” he laughingly rejoined, “ and be edi- 
fied by the marvellous spectacle of my nostrils 
twitching, my eyes turning green, and my fingers 
working convulsively as if throttling some exultant 
rival.” 

She did not respond to this laughing banter, but, 
pointing to the letter in his hand, said, — 

“I presume that is a love-missive for Lena. 


28 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


Take my advice and destroy it, for she is not 
worthy to receive it.” 

“ That is rather a grim jest,” he responded, im- 
patiently. 

Do I look as if I were jesting ?” 

Looking a moment at her earnest face, Stanley’s 
eyes lit up with contemptuous scorn, and turning 
aside, he answered, — 

‘^No, you do not, and allow me to bid Lena’s 
bosom friend good- morning.” 

One moment, Mr. Huntingdon,” Susy ex- 
claimed, vehemently. It is not my custom to 
speak without being able to sustain my words.” 

“ Pray do not trouble yourself,” he answered, 
coldly. Lena is as far above your poor malice as 
I am above questioning her honor.” 

Stepping in front of him to arrest his departure, 
the girl said, in a low, rapid voice, — 

“ I have always been your friend, Stanley Hunt- 
ingdon, and hate me as you will, I shall do you a 
good turn despite your fond folly. That silly chit, 
who wears your ring, is also engaged to Jasper 
Hewlitt, an abandoned libertine, as you well know. 
They are together now, billing and cooing, no doubt, 
at this very moment. Ah ! how they will laugh 
over that very tropical letter of yours !” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


29 


Death and furies!’^ Stanley exclaimed, quiver- 
ing with passion. ‘‘ You are a woman ; but thank 
God you have a brother, and ” 

“ Listen, my poor moon-struck lad,” the girl in- 
terrupted, with pitying contempt. “ Doubtless you 
disbelieve my assertion, confidante though I am of 
your inamorata; but when I hold the unmistak- 
able proof under your very nose, I do not believe 
you are silly enough to turn away.” 

There is nothing like contempt to shame down 
anger and put one on his mettle. When Susy’s 
cool, contemptuous tones entered Stanley’s ears, they 
ran like an arctic chill along his boiling veins, 
giving him complete mastery of himself. 

With a cool bow, he took the proffered letter and 
deliberately read it to the end. It was a letter from 
Lena to ^‘My darling Susy, my dear, dear confi- 
dante,” and it cruelly vindicated the truthfulness of 
that dear confidante.” What Stanley suffered as 
he read the damning evidence of Lena’s unworthi- 
ness the keenly- watchful girl could not determine. 
He had completely mastered himself, and not a 
muscle quivered, as he slowly refolded the letter, 
placed it in the envelope, and handed it to her, 
saying,— 

“ Miss Clenny, I ask your pardon ; and, although 
3 * 


30 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


this act of yours is contemptible to the lowest degree, 
I thank you from the depths of my soul. So, so, I 
am on the carpet again. Well, as the saying goes, 
I owe you one, and when you need my services, 
command them. But, for the present, good-morn- 
ing.” 

There was, perhaps, an unusual lustre in Stanley’s 
eyes as he proceeded to the platform, tearing up the 
letter he had written to Lena ; and, doubtless, his 
movements were more rapid than ordinary, but 
beyond that, there were no visible signs of the blow 
he had received. He sampled the cotton, sold it, 
carried the weights, price, etc., to the book-keeper, 
and received his money. Then, making a few 
trifling purchases, he gave his negroes money to get 
them ^^sumthin’ waam,” and mounting his pony, 
rode slowly homeward in the waning afternoon. 

As a desert does not swallow the cleaving stream 
at once, but gradually absorbs the lessening volume 
as it rolls over each barren mile, so do the fresh 
feelings of youth waste away in their ceaseless 
rounds through an outraged bosom. Stanley had 
been reared on a large plantation in a sparsely- 
settled neighborhood, and having had few boy asso- 
ciates of his own color, the fiery and impetuous, 
nature he inherited had been deepened, strengthened. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


31 


and intensified by its peculiar and isolated training. 
And having been surrounded since childhood with 
negroes, who fawned upon him as only a negro can, 
he had caught that unconscious feeling of superiority, 
dashed, perhaps, with a shade of imperiousness, 
which we so often discover in men of the South. 
It is not surprising that a youth thus nurtured would 
imbibe mistaken ideas of what constituted strength ; 
and, scorning all sympathy, wrap the toga of pride 
about his feelings to conceal the insidious poison 
slowly sapping the purity and happiness from his 
vigorous young veins. 

“ Smile and the world smiles with you, 

Sigh and you sigh alone ; 

For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, 

But has trouble enough of its own.’’ 

Repeating those grim, suggestive words, Stanley 
placed them as a monitor in his bosom, and turned 
his face towards the heavily-coming years. 


32 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


CHAPTER V. 

Stanley resumed his usual duties ; but the fa- 
miliar scenes, reminding him day by day of all that 
he had loved and lost, wore the iron too deeply into 
his soul; and receiving a letter, at this juncture, 
from his uncle in Virginia asking him for the hun- 
dredth time to pay them all a visit, he placed the 
business into his brother’s hands, packed his valise, 
and departed for the sad, historic scenes of the Old 
Dominion. 

When he changed cars at Chattanooga, he secured 
a seat directly in front of a man and woman whom 
(as they will occupy some space in these pages) we 
will describe more fully. 

The man was large, angular, awkward, good- 
natured, and full of animal vigor ; while the woman 
would attract notice in any crowd by the very per- 
fection of her glowing, rustic beauty. Nor was 
she ignorant of her manifold charms, as the various 
feminine frivolities with which she was adorned 
fully attested. One glance at them was sufficient to 
show they were man and wife, that they were from 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


33 


the country, and that they thought the baby which 
they dandled between them was the smartest, pret- 
tiest, and altogether the most wonderful baby that 
ever blessed mother earth with its presence. 

The baby’s crowings had mingled with Stanley’s 
meditations during all the morning; but, being 
interested in the scenery along the route, he had 
persisted in withholding the respect due such an 
important personage. Rising, however, to procure 
a cup of w’^ater, he glanced down while passing this 
interesting trio. The baby, with a precocious eye to 
economy, was lying back in its mother’s lap en- 
deavoring to make both ends meet but, in catch- 
ing Stanley’s eye, it abandoned the design, smiled 
up into his face, and extended both chubby arms. 

Following an irresistible impulse, Stanley leaned 
over, caught up the little innocent, and kissed its 
smiling lips. Then, bowing to the parents, he re- 
placed the child upon its mother’s lap and proceeded 
to the water-tank. 

What mother’s heart ever failed to warm to- 
wards even an undistinguished-looking stranger that 
notices her precious babe? This mother was not 
exempt from the common weakness, and Stanley’s 
unconscious act of diplomacy, coupled with the look 
of passionate despair which swept over his face as 


34 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


he caught up the child, enlisted every sympathy of 
the young mother in his behalf. She was still 
wondering how the face of one so young, handsome, 
and seemingly fortune-favored could harbor such a 
look of awful desolation, when her husband, return- 
ing from his self-introduction to Stanley, informed 
her that the young man was a Mississippi planter. 
Then every weird dime-novel legend of the South’s 
chivalrous sons (they were Northern people) began 
trooping through her vivid ly-imaginative brain ; 
and in twenty minutes she had hoisted him upon a 
lofty pedestal and placed the most fragrant incense 
at its base. 

She pictured him in the foremost ranks of the 
Lost Cause, astride a fierce black charger with 
streams of fire flaming from his nostrils (the horse’s 
not the man’s), while his nodding, raven-black 
plume and sweeping, thrusting, blazing, careering, 
double and twisting, treble back-action, patent self- 
repeating, un-keep-up-with-a-ble, Excalibur (the 
man’s not the horse’s) struck home-yearnings to 
the bosom of the enemy. True, he seemed rather 
young to figure back so far ; but, doubtless, he was 
one of the many boy heroes who adorned that 
epoch. She pictured his grand old country-seat, 
with the Dismal Swamp in its back yard, and the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


35 


corridors echoing to the stately tread of seventeen 
cowled ghosts, — ghosts, you know, are indispensable 
to the dignity of ‘^old families.” But that look, — 
what business had such a rare Jupiter tonans to be 
miserable? After puzzling in vain over the last 
question, she turned and began to inspect the tout 
ensemble of this interesting stranger. Noting the 
small, slender hands, the fair, soft skin, the silken 
hair and moustache, and the rich, well-fitting attire, 
she then began to run a critical eye over the un- 
gainly proportions of her husband, failing, for the 
first time since their marriage, to respond to the 
broad, good-natured grin which he beamed upon 
her. 

When night closed in, shawls and overcoats were 
the demand of the hour, as the passengers began 
making all the arrangements for sleep compatible 
with their cramped quarters. 

Curling up on a seat, with his overcoat for cover- 
ing, Stanley drifted into uneasy slumber; but the 
train slackening its speed about midnight aroused 
him, and, rising to relieve his cramped limbs, he 
discovered that the porter had neglected the fire, 
and that the car was uncomfortably cold. 

Glancing into the opposite seat, he saw the 
countrywoman, with her babe folded to her bosom, 


36 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


peacefully sleeping regardless of the chill atmos- 
phere. It made a pretty sight, this mother and her 
sleeping child, — a picture of love and purity. 

Turning away from the contemplation, Stanley 
threw his overcoat into the rack above, then, cross- 
ing to where the countryman was contentedly 
snoring beneath a huge great-coat, he roused him 
and said, — 

“ You had better look after your wife and child, 
my friend, or they will catch their death of cold in 
this car.” 

I’ll be gosh-darned if it ain’t cold,” the country- 
man acknowledged, as he sleepily rubbed his eyes. 

Take my coat, up there, and throw over them.” 

But I — ^you — er ” 

No buts in the case, my friend ; I am not using 
it.” 

Turning away from the countryman’s thanks, 
Stanley found the porter, and succeeding in pro- 
curing a good fire, settled himself to cigars and 
thoughts for the night, happily unconscious that the 
countrywoman, feigning sleep, had witnessed the 
whole proceeding, and was pressing kisses on the 
Avarm fur of his overcoat, while hot tears blinded 
her eyes. 

The countryman and his wife stopped over the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 37 

next day to visit the Luray Caverns, but Stanley 
hurried on to his destination. He arrived the fol- 
lowing morning, and was received with open arms 
by all his uncle’s family. He found a quiet, happy 
fireside and pleasant associates, who, if they knew 
aught of his past, delicately forbore betraying the 
fact by word or look ; and as each hour was profit- 
ably spent amid scenes which held no reminders of 
his past, that past began to bear less heavily upon 
him. He felt that the freshness from his life had 
faded forever, and with it that zest which enables 
one to live for the mere pleasure of living; felt 
that he had loved with a love too fiery, unreasoning, 
and unquestioning, to ever feel the passion again, — 
had cast, as it were, his soul upon the die and lost. 
But the scenes which surrounded him were pecu- 
liarly favorable to one of his temperament. Each 
foot of soil he trod, during his excursions over those 
battle-scarred fields, spoke to his ardent mind of 
chivalrous deeds and heroic sufferings ; and, during 
the enthusiastic imaginings of the hour, his own 
petty sorrows sank into insignificance. He found 
himself listening to the promptings of ambition, — 
feeling that could he but escape the bounds that 
narrowed his present existence, he could, by noble 

enterprises, crown his after-life with, at least, con- 
4 


38 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


tent. Had these feelings of his higher nature been 
allowed time for maturity, many things that I will 
unwillingly chronicle would have never transpired. 
But, Devious are the paths by which we are led 
to our appointed ends.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

Rambling, one morning, farther than usual, 
Stanley became completely bewildered by the gen- 
eral sameness of the surrounding hills ; and, after 
looking in vain for some familiar landmark by 
which to shape his course, he wandered aimlessly on 
until he discovered a small farm-house. Rapping 
on the door, he heard approaching steps, and the 
next moment it was opened by the veritable country- 
woman to whom he loaned his overcoat a few nights 
previous. 

‘‘Why, good-morning, Mrs. Bradley,” he said, 
smiling at her astonishment. “I believe we have 
met before.” 

“ Lor ! yessir,” she cried ; “ you are the gentle- 
man My ! Come in and sit down.” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


39 


Wheeling up an arm-chair before the blazing logs, 
and seating him within its capacious depths, she 
had, in twenty minutes, regaled Stanley with bread, 
milk, butter, and every trivial incident that had 
occurred since their separation. Then came that 
wonderful baby, and Stanley lifted her heart to the 
seventh heaven by taking it upon his knees and 
talking baby talk as naturally as if he had been 
running for the legislature. Then Mr. Bradley 
came in, and, extending a hearty welcome, began 
such a learned disquisition about the ^Mors’’ and 
^^polertics” of the land that Stanley discovered 
night and his own unconverted state at its con- 
clusion. 

After this, Mrs. Bradley became exceedingly fond 
of Stanley’s cousins, and meeting her so frequently 
daring his rambles, and at the neighboring houses, 
made him fear it was not altogether by accident; 
so, to test the matter, on meeting with her late one 
afternoon, he raised his hat in answer to her blush- 
ing greeting, and said, abruptly, — 

By the way, Mrs. Bradley, kiss the baby, and 
tell your husband good-by for me, as I leave for 
home to-morrow.” 

‘^Leaving!” she exclaimed, with paling cheeks. 
“ Leaving for good ?” 


40 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


“Yes, madam. Is there anything unusual in 

thatr 

“Yes — no ! — that is — oh, Mr. Huntingdon !” she 
cried, throwing her apron over her face and quiv- 
ering in every limb, “ take me with you ! take me 
with you !” 

“ This is madness,” Stanley replied, coldly, “ or I 
misinterpret your meaning.” 

“ It is not madness now, but it will be ere long if 
I am compelled to remain with the man in yonder 
house. Oh, sir, I implore you to save me from a 
home and a husband I loathe.” 

“My good woman,” Stanley answered, a grim 
smile flitting across his lips, “ if your husband and 
yourself are at cross-purposes, go to your people and 
obtain a divorce ; do not take the bull by the horns 
by eloping with a bachelor.” 

“You still misunderstand me,” she exclaimed, 
stepping nearer. “ I was happy in my home until 
you crossed my path ; I have been miserable since ; 
and I feel, at this moment, that death and dishonor 
in your arms would be heaven compared to life and 
honor with that man, compelled as I am to endure 
his loathsome caresses and comfort his hated bed.” 

“ I really thank you for the compliment your 
words imply,” Stanley answered, in cool, cutting 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


41 


tones. But pray let us dispense with heroics ; they 
are trying to the nerves. Because I chance to out- 
dress your husband, or perhaps wear a skin some- 
what smoother than his, you work yourself into 
a towering passion for me, when, for aught you 
know to the contrary, I may be the grandest villain 
unhung, — may make levanting with other men’s 
wives a specialty. I will leave before you shame 
your womanhood by speaking further. Good-morn- 
iug.” 

‘^Mr. Huntingdon,” she said, as he was turning 
away, ^‘1 believe you have a good heart despite 
your cruel words, and as you have robbed me of all 
hope and happiness, I will make one more request.” 

Stanley paused when he heard these sad, low- 
spoken words, and said, ‘‘I will do anything for 
you, madam, within the range of reason.” 

Then,” she said, a deathly pallor overspreading 

her features, ^Gf you — if I Ah, God! how 

can I make you understand I Sir, could I clasp 
your second self to this bosom, I could transfer 
all my love for you to it, and feel I had not lived 
my life in vain.” 

Stanley gazed at her a moment in open-eyed 
astonishment, and, as his eyes dwelt upon the swell- 
ing bosom and the rounded, glowing form, a dan- 
4 * 


42 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


gerous light leaped to liis eyes ; bat turning his face 
aside, he answered, — 

Madam, I would grant your most extraordinary 
request, did not thoughts of your innocent babe and 
unsuspecting husband deter me. That path behind 
you leads to your home, your virtue, and ultimately, 
I trust, to your happiness : take it and thank me, 
hereafter, for not using the power of your matchless 
folly.” 

Eising from the supper-table that night, Stanley’s 
uncle said, Come into the library, Stanley, I have 
something to tell you. Take that seat. This letter is 
from your mother, and contains, I fear, some harsh 
news for you ; so nerve yourself to meet the worst.” 

Taking the letter, Stanley ran his eye over the 
complimentary opening, the neighborhood gossip, 
etc., until coming to the following paragraph : 

have spoken in former communications of 
Stanley’s approaching marriage with a Miss Eed- 
mond. They had, I suppose, some misunderstand- 
ing, or lover’s quarrel, which caused Stanley to pay 
you the present visit. Well, the news came yester- 
day that she is dead, — died at her brother’s home in 

Arkansas. The body will be brought to B for 

burial,” etc., etc. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


43 


It was terrible to witness the helpless look of 
gray desolation that overspread Stanley’s features as 
he read those terse sentences ; but, without a word, 
he crushed the letter in his hand and remained in 
the same posture. 

‘^My dear boy,” his uncle said, touching his 
shoulder, repining is useless now.” 

I am not repining, uncle ; I am thinking of the 
many ways that news affects me. I thought the 
light within me was dead, and discover I was mis- 
taken, — but this extinguishes it forever, Lena, 
Lena ! my sweet child, my pretty darling, would to 
God I slept at your side ! 

“ Hope, old fellow, our mistress sleeps with her 
victims. Go seek a master who can keep thee em- 
ployed. This severs the last link that connects me 
with the past, and I can now lock up the home of 
my youth. ’Tk done, and never more shall my 
footsteps echo through its silent halls. What does 
the new life offer?” 

He rose and, crossing the room, leaned against 
the mantel. After remaining thus a few minutes, 
he raised his head and a harsh laugh broke from 
his lips. 

Stanley, you ” 

^^Do not be uneasy, uncle. I was merely think- 


44 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


ing of a few ambitious twinges I have felt of late. 
Ha, ha ! I thought of doing something so very fine 
that it would turn the whole nation green with 
envy. Well! its complexion stands in very little 
danger now. Dum vivimus vivamus, and the first 
thing on the tapis is the sweet friend from whom 
I jast parted. Ha, ha ! her gentle wish shall be 
gratified, or never more call me a man. I see, 
uncle, your longings to know more are trying to 
your good breeding ; so I will place you at ease, by 
informing you that it is utterly useless to question 
me. May your dreams be pleasanter than mine. 
Good-night.” With a bitter laugh, he strode off to 
his room, where his footsteps echoed without inter- 
mission until dawn. 

Coming out upon the porch as the sun was 
rising, Stanley beckoned to a bright-looking mulatto 
boy, who was standing by the front gate. 

Jakey, my pretty lad,” he said, when the boy 
approached, have heard you recommended for 
secrecy and despatch, and choose you to bear a love- 
token for me. As you value that carcass of yours, 
make no miscarriage. Give this into none but the 
lady^s hands, and into hers where no eye can see 
you. Here is some money, which I will double 
when you return.” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


45 


Taking the letter, with an intelligent nod, the 
boy disappeared, and about noon he returned with 
the following note : 

Bless you for reconsidering your decision. He 
leaves at twelve o’clock, and ‘will remain away until 
to-morrow. I have promised to spend the night at 
a neighbor’s; but you and I will see about that. 
Come immediately after dinner; I could not survive 
the afternoon in suspense. Bless you.” 

Oh-h4 ! the physician has accepted his fee, the 
nurse is in waiting, the hour for the interesting 
accouchement has arrived, and a second Jasper 
Hewlitt (curses on him !) will soon be presented to 
the world. So be it; I do not think my conscience 
will allow me to remain long in swaddling-clothes. 
Conscience ! Bah ! What is conscience but educa- 
tion ? And from this hour, with common sense for 
my usher, I will play the professor to myself. Con- 
science be hanged ! My ancestors burned heretics 
and hanged witches for the glory of God (who, 
according to their tenets, is surprisingly fond of 
blood and suffering), and shot, skinned, and scalped 
Indians for pastime; while, did I shoot my dear 
friend Hewlitt in self-defence, his gibbering ghost 
would dog my heels the rest of my days. Con- 
science ! My mother, had she so chosen, could have 


46 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


trained me up to worship her cast-ofF shoe; yet, 
now, as an inquiring mind prompts me to gaze into 
other folds, my craven soul begins to dodge imagi- 
nary thunderbolts. Oh, ye annals of faith, ye 
wrecks of exploded theories, ye luminous pages that 
shadow forth man’s wonderously anomalous dance, 
nerve my cowardly heart until my mind threads 
this pathetically intricate path which leads ’tis said 
to — God knows where. 

Heigh-ho ! it is time I was flying to the arms 
of my soul’s idol. I must lay in a stock of such 
phrases with which to cram her too willing ears,- 
for my bosom cannot command sufficient nourish- 
ment to bud an appropriate term. 

^‘^And the Queen of the South shall rise as a 
witness against them.’ Well, Solomon furnished 
her with an heir regardless of ceremonies; so, I 
will imagine this lady to be the Queen of the North 
and do likewise. Is this the end of all my glorious 
dreams? Oh ! God, is this the end, is this the end ?” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


47 


CHAPTER VIL 

A SMALL white cottage, shadowed by lofty elms 
and half hidden by climbing vines, stands bathed in 
the soft May sunshine. A young girl issues from its 
peaceful doors and, letting herself out of the yard- 
gate, runs lightly across the road into the woods 
beyond, where a huge vine forms swings and seats 
with its Briarean trunk. Seating herself, she opens 
a book and essays to read, but by degrees the 
volume slips from her fingers to her lap, and from 
there to the ground, while the large blue eyes gaze 
dreamily off through the sombre forest. The heavy 
coils of her fair, luxuriant tresses have escaped their 
ribbons, and, falling in prodigal profusion over her 
sloping shoulders, lie in billowy folds upon the 
ground. Seated thus, in unstudied grace, with the 
woodland breezes playing across her delicate cheeks, 
she seems like some fabled wood-nymph waiting 
the appearance of a luckless mortal on whom to 
cast her siren’s spell. Yet the beholder uncon- 
sciously leaves the contemplation of the rare blonde 
beauty and the exquisite grace of the rounded form 


48 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


to watch the serene light lurking in the pure depths 
of the sweet, asking eyes. It is a face seldom seen, 
and never forgotten. A face to which we naturally 
turn for sympathy when others have wounded us, 
or for strength when sorely tempted. A tender, 
womanly, Christian face, — one that forgets self in 
the presence of a sacrifice, and one that we would 
wish at our side to cheer our fainting spirit when 
the angel of death sends his inexorable summons. 

She had been seated thus but a few minutes, 
when her dreams were disturbed by the hoof-beats 
of a rapidly-ridden horse. To judge from the soft 
color that stole into her rounded cheeks, her dreams 
and that rider were closely connected. 

In a few moments the horseman dashed into 
sight, and we recognize Stanley Huntingdon, who is 
four years older than when last we met, — years that 
have rounded out the slenderness of youth into the 
strength and elegance of manhood, — ^years that have 
stamped maturity on the vigorous, handsome face, — 
but, alas, years that have lit the brilliantly-flashing 
eyes with careless mockery, and disfigured the lips 
with a derisive sneer which the dark, drooping 
moustache cannot entirely conceal. 

Dashing up within a few bounds of the waiting 
girl before reining the pony back upon its haunches, 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


49 


he tlien sprang from the saddle and, advancing with 
a ludicrous grimace of contrition on his facile fea- 
tures, exclaimed, — 

^^Peccavi! Blondine, or rather my pony has. The 
shameless rascal, regardless of his promise to fetch 
me hither, concluded he would spend the day, chas- 
ing butterflies, in the clover-field, so I was belated 
while persuading him that his broken promise 
would preclude all beatification in celestial clover- 
patches.” 

Apologies are unnecessary,” she answered, with 
a smile, as he threw himself on the turf at her feet, 
I have been here but a few minutes.” 

What a glorious day !” he said, stretching him- 
self more at ease. ‘^What a delightful spot! so 
cool, calm, and sequestered ; which last fact makes it 
doubly delightful. And, best of all, how peerlessly 
beautiful you are looking this morning I” 

You appear pleased with everything to-day,” 
she answered, looking down into his laughing eyes, 
which is more than I can claim for you on your 
last visit.” 

Well, you see, you began sermonizing that day,” 
he replied, lighting a cigar, and as it reminded me 
of my unpardonable dereliction of all the past 

week’s prayers, my gentle spirit naturally became 
5 


50 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


ruffled. In all soberness, Blondine, I think this 
sad old earth is funereal enough with the obfusca- 
ting salmagundi called religion that whiskered lips 
from counter-pulpits weekly hurl at our bewildered 
heads without the girls — earth’s Igne Pleiades — 
utterly extinguishing us in Tartarean darkness by 
veiling their bright eyes with the missionary’s som- 
brous milky- way. I should have more gallantry 
than to say that, I suppose, but the incandescence 
of my humanitarian love (prompting me to shield 
those few forlorn brothers that do struggle in the 
unreligious light of common sense) forces me into 
this unchivalric attitude. For superstition flows 
like bubbling nectar from rosy lips ; and I know 
my poor, weak strugglers would straggle unsuspi- 
ciously up to the new-fangled fountain, get gloriously 
drunk, and unconditionally surrender earth’s dis- 
mantled stronghold, — common sense. I know you 
are imagining that I have gotten all tangled up in 
this amiable diatribe, but you are mistaken, as I 
could easily prove if I were not out of breath.” 

I can very well dispense with the proof,” the 
girl answered, sadly. “ You are incorrigible on that 
subject, Stanley, so let it rest between us forever. 
What have you been doing since I saw you last?” 

Eeforming. I see you look incredulous, but I 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


51 


assure you that I went out to the races Friday, and 
losing all my cash on the first race failed to bet on 
the last ; now if that isn’t reforming I would like 
to hear you name it.” 

The way you are talking,” Blondine said, laugh- 
ing in spite of herself, reminds rue of what a 
friend said of you, that ^you were drunker when 
sober than when drunk.’ ” 

He was about right,” Stanley replied, carelessly. 

I never was drunk, but when I drink it steadies 
me instead of befuddling my brain and betangling 
my legs.” 

Why do you drink at all ?” 

To be fashionable, I suppose.” 

Stanley, do you ever think real seriously 
about ” 

Now, my dear Blondine, you are selecting a 
text, and I give you fair warning before your ser- 
mon is well under way I will be up and otf ; for 
you have such an unaccountable knack of hitting 
the truth that it makes a fellow feel uncomfortable. 
My dear, dear child, you well know that preachers 
are my pet aversion, so why will you persist in 
joining the ranks ? Excuse me if I speak rudely, 
but I am cornered off, button-holed, and my short- 
comings moaned over sufficiently elsewhere, without 


52 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


having it repeated here, the place to which I come 
for rest.” 

He was lighting another cigar, and did not see 
how his last words affected the gentle girl, nor what 
a struggle it cost her to force the tears from her 
voice before saying, — 

I do not wish to annoy you, Stanley, but you 
cannot imagine how it pains me to see one so emi- 
nently capable as yourself of accomplishing great 
things frittering away his brilliant talents in prod- 
igal folly.” 

Stanley looked up at her with a quizzical light in 
his eyes, as he answered, — 

“ Oh, faithful echo of my once lambkin bosom ! 
But, Blondine, your generous pity for my wasted 
brilliancy stirs my usually Sadducean bosom, and I 
will relate a short history which will conclusively 
prove to you that sapient philosophy, not thought- 
less folly, governs my actions. 

‘^In the year of our Lord 18 — I visited, as you 
know, California. Let me remark by way of 
parenthesis that I was a full-grown lamb in those 
days ; recklessly in search of the Good, the True, 
and the Beautiful. I had, however, received a few 
gentle shakes from this motherly old world, but, 
until then, she had failed deplorably to shake any 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


53 


good, hard sense into my cranium; so I thought 
there were loftier paths and grander fields above the 
ken of common men, where (with the aid of those 
brilliant talents that you accuse me of possessing) 
I expected to win my way, found the long-dreamed- 
of Utopia, and settle placidly down into a dream of 
aurora borealean bliss. Don’t ask me how I in- 
tended to accomplish this Aladdian wonder; for, far 
from feeling sure about the modus operandiy I now 
have a faint suspicion that I was somewhat hazy 
as to just exactly what I wanted. I wanted some- 
thing, however, and have it I would or die. 

Well, I was sitting in the upper story of the 
San Franciscan library one day, when the table at 
which I sat began to dance the ‘ Fisher’s Hornpipe’ ; 
the chandeliers grew generous and made the floor 
a present of their globes; while the book-shelves 
became equally as reckless. On glancing up to dis- 
cover the cause of the general instability, I saw 
men, without pausing as usual to select the best hat 
on the rack, dash headlong down the stairs ; while 
the ladies, regardless of flashing stockings, caught 
up their skirts and tumbled after their lords and 
masters in equally as undignified haste. So, after 
an hour’s search, I finally corralled one man who 

was calm enough to tell me it was an earthquake. 

5 * 


54 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


I tell you, my dear Blondine, if I thought every 
earthquake would shake as much sense into me as 
that one did, I would send on word to shake us up 
daily for the next nineteen years. I acknowledge 
that at first I was foolish enough to feel hurt. It 
had rung up a new curtain, and my simple, child- 
like faith in my kind became utterly demolished 
before the Punch and Judy show thus exposed. I 
had seen hoary-headed philosophers whitewashed 
with fear into very unphilosophical contortions; I 
had seen sage blue-stockings cut unblue-stocking 
figures; and all because our long-suffering mother 
wished to exercise her dear old limbs by making a 
dignified pirouette. 

From that hour,’^ he continued, after a pause, 
in which a look of hopeless sadness had replaced 
the mocking light in his eyes, I abandoned the 
pursuit of my phantasmagoria, and, aided by the 
light of metaphysics, began the study of man him- 
self. This is a sad subject, Blondine, and one to 
which I seldom revert. I have been accused of 
infidelity and relegated to Tertullian’s hell, that 
comfortable repository for all obnoxious persons, by 
many worthy acquaintances of mine, but they are 
mistaken. I am no more an infidel than you are. 
Although I doubt not God, God knows I doubt 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


55 


man. I find him the same to-day that he was 
yesterday, only a little older and possibly a shade 
wiser. Where yesterday he traced his ancestry up 
to the gods, to-day he traces it to royalty, Nor- 
mandy, the Mayflower, the Old Dominion, and 
elsewhere ; where he once burned you or sawed you 
asunder for differing from his faith or politics, he 
now ostracizes you or injures you financially ; where 
he once burned libraries and taught damnation was 
your own did you aspire to knowledge outside the 
pales of the church, he now loads you with con- 
tempt or raises the voice of denunciation ; where he 
once demanded bloody altars and human lives, he 
now demands golden shrines and curtailment of 
liberty, — thus ranges the suggestive antithesis 
throughout the entire calendar. Take him in his 
savage, bloody-minded infancy, mark how his dis- 
gustingly-superstitious habits fell away before the 
march of time; follow that march and witness 
how, fast as one folly fell from him, he seized 
another, perhaps a shade less foolish ; then size him 
up to-day, lay him out, measure him, weigh him, 
discover how contemptible he yet remains, and see 
if the mind does not sicken with the appalling Sig- 
gestions, while the heart cries out for something 
more palpable than faith.” 


56 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


‘^Ah, Stanley, Stanley, why harbor such unquiet 
thoughts ? You are not your brother's keeper, and 
will answer for no sins but your own. Cast such 
unworthy reasoning aside, place implicit, childlike 
trust on the Book of Truth, and these unhealthy 
vapors will drift away from your mind.” 

That sounds well, Blondine,” Stanley answered, 
shaking his head slowly ; “ but, alas, the mind that 
has outgrown its simple trust and reverence can 
find no balm in Gilead. 

Man’s reason was given him to use, I suppose. 
At least its use is not forbidden while he is gauging 
the tides, weighing the winds, chaining the light- 
nings, and defending himself, — small matters in 
themselves, — but when it comes to his own salvation, 
a question embracing inconceivable joy or pain for 
an eternity, he is asked to forego his usual preroga- 
tive, become as a thoughtless child and accept — 
what? A rule of faith patterned among others in 
superstitious darkness ; collected and wrangled over 
by body after body of stupidly-bigoted fanatics, and 
floated to us across a sea of blood. Ah, God, thy 
will should be as plain as thy handiwork.” 

There was a long silence when he ceased speaking, 
broken by the soft sigh that fluttered across Blon- 
dine’s lips, as she sat looking sadly down into 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


57 


Stanley’s averted face. He heard the sigh, and, 
looking up at her, said, gently, — 

“Such themes are bootless now, my dear Blon- 
dine, and I hope you will pardon me for boring you 
with them. I know it pains you to hear me ques- 
tioning with rude tongue the creeds that your pure 
heart firmly trusts. But you are the only one to 
whom I can open my soul, and with my accustomed 
selfishness I thoughtlessly obtain relief at the ex- 
pense of your happiness. I have known you a 
long time, Blondine, and you have proved the 
truest, gentlest friend that ever an unhappy mortal 

claimed. I have been thinking, for months, of ” 

The low, seductive tones drifted into silence, and 
the girl, glancing down, saw by his absent look and 
scowling brows that he had completely forgotten 
her presence. With an indulgent smile that proved 
she was accustomed to his vagaries, she leaned back 
and waited patiently until he aroused from his 
reverie. 

Rising, he leaned against the vine at her side, and, 
taking up one of the small hands, said, softly, — 
“This hour, Blondine, must decide whether or 
not we part forever.” 

A strange, half-pitying smile hovered around his 
lips as he noticed her little hand at the words “ part 


58 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


forever’’ impulsively touch his arm; but, bending 
nearer, he continued, in low, winning tones, — 

^^Blondine, my beautiful, is it surprising that 
while enjoying your society as a friend my sinful 
heart has bowed itself in love and humbleness be- 
fore your pure nature? Is it surprising that the 
wish has grown upon me to transplant your lovely 
form to my own fireside ? Ah, my precious darling, 
if your innocent love would lead the way I could 
find my grave by a truer path.” 

The girl raised her eyes to his, and the unspeak- 
able love raying out from their liquid depths was 
his answer. But, ah, what is it that brings that 
dark, remorseful look to his eyes, as he gazes down 
into the tender, trusting face pressed against his 
bosom ? 

Blondine,” he said, slipping his hand under her 
chin and raising the sweet, trembling lips to his, I 
believed that you loved me before I spoke, yet you 
remember my saying this hour must decide whether 
or not we are to part. There is a trial still in store 
for you. Are you as brave as you are true ?” 

“Could there be anything more bitter than 
parting?” 

“ I hope not,” he replied, with a quick catch of 
his voice; “ but I fear the test with which I mean to 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


59 


try your love is more than your exquisite sensibili- 
ties can bear ; and now, even now, with your kisses 
warm upon my lips and your dear form in my 
arms, I beg you, unless your love is prepared to 
bear much from me, to retreat while there is time. 
Think well.” 

Her answer was a confident smile, as she nestled 
closer to him. 

“Blondine,” he said, paling to his very lips, 
“ life has but little to offer us, and without love it is 
intolerable. While we live let us live, has been my 
motto for years, caused from my having no hope, no 
ambition ; but if your love proves its deathless 
strength my future will hold a purpose, and my 
later years will witness the full fruition of all that 
my boyhood dreamed. 

The love that I claim must not only be free 
from all suspicion^ but it must be capable of rising 
above the petty regulations and the phantom fears 
that restrain our shallow-minded race. It must be 
as willing to crucify the feeling implanted by the 
present schooling as I am willing to lay down my 
life at the feet of her whose love will undertake all 
this. And now, Blondine, my sweet child, can you 
place your hand in mine and follow me into a realm 
of my own founding? Even though every step 


60 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


crushes some precept of your past, and outrages 
every sentiment inculcated by your Christian train- 
ing ? I do not ask this lightly, as God is my wit- 
ness, and as you would know could you see the 
source that nourishes the wish. I hope to fold 
you ere many weeks to my bosom as my wife, but 
before that you must place some of that simple 
unquestioning faith in me that you yield to your 
religion. I have dreamed of such love since boy- 
hood, but until this hour it has proven a delusion. 
Will you let it remain delusive, or will you prove 
a woman’s breast can hold such love ?” 

Not wishing to frighten her unprepared mind by 
a too sudden revealment of his meaning, he uttered 
those insidiously sinister words in a slow, careless 
voice; but when she raised her clear, unsuspicious 
eyes to his, he realized that her innocent mind had 
utterly failed to comprehend his drift. 

Stanley,” she said, looking fearlessly into his 
eyes, I will speak plainly, for you are too honor- 
able to take advantage of my speech. 

When I first met you I saw you were recklessly 
sinful, and had you possessed no redeeming quali- 
ties I would have turned from you in horror ; but, 
like rays of lightning, your true self would flash 
from the clouds of sin enveloping you, revealing to 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


61 


the beholder all the grand possibilities that lurked 
in your nature. I saw you were a combination of 
strength and weakness, and that, coupled with your 
bright, generous feelings and wayward disposition, 
appealed irresistibly to my woman’s heart. I first 
hoped for you, then prayed for you, then loved you, 
and, ah, how often despaired ! Many a time has my 
heart revolted against you on hearing you express 
some atrociously wicked sentiment, but the next 
moment a ray of true feeling flashing through your 
jeers would reclaim its allegiance. Many a time 
have I resolved to steel my bosom against you on 
hearing of some unusually sinful escapade, but you 
would come with your laughing eyes and jesting 
tongue, and make me forget I ever formed the reso- 
lution. That,” she continued, a soft smile playing 
about her lips, ^^was when I did not know you 
loved me ; but now, since you have told your love 
and said I could lead you into a purer life, ah, 
what sacrifice would be too great ?” 

Stanley gazed a moment into the fearlessly trust- 
ing eyes of the unsuspecting girl, as she began that 
loving, unselfish revealment of all her most sacred 
feelings, then his eyes turned off through the silent 
woodland, and, as she proceeded, a look of almost 

unearthly despair stiffened his features. He could 
6 


62 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


not have looked more utterly appalled and desolate 
had his soul, with prophetic vision ranging through- 
out eternity, discovered its own awful destiny. 

The girl trembled with fear on noticing his frozen 
look, and, placing her hand on his shoulder, whis- 
pered, What is it, Stanley? Oh, what is it?” 

Shaking her hand from his shoulder, he turned 
his now darkly gleaming eyes upon her and ex- 
claimed, — 

I have felt for many months that Satan had a 
bill of sale for me, but I had never read the awful 
document until the past ten minutes. You have 
shown me a heart so true, a mind so free from guile, 
that my guilty soul stands abashed, and, standing 
here beneath the bright canopy of heaven and 
looking into your lovelit eyes, it is impossible for 
me to name the damnable conditions I once intended. 
You struck me in an awkward place when you 
accused me of having honor, and may owe more to 
the chance remark than you will ever know this 
side your grave. Honor and myself have long since 
parted company, but towards you I will maintain at 
least its semblance, and may the angel of mercy 
blot this hour from your untainted life !” 

Struggling a moment in vain for further speech, 
he turned away with a fierce gesture, and, mounting 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


63 


his pony, rode rapidly away, leaving the girl petri- 
fied with bewildered fear. 

What is it ? O ray God, what is it she mur- 
mured, dazedly j but a look of awful horror began 
to gather in her eyes as her mind, recalling his 
words, began to grasp their fatal meaning. Sink- 
ing, with a low moan, upon her knees, she began 
pleading for strength to bear the unexpected blow ; 
yet, with that unreasoning, unexplainable, and sub- 
lime, self-forgetful devotion of a loving, true- 
hearted woman, her first petition was for the one 
who had traitorously outraged every sacred feeling 
in her bosom. 

Thus for hours beneath the silent trees, and 
under the calmly-bending heavens, the stricken girl 
wrestled with her agony ; but when at last she bent 
her exhausted steps towards her home, the serene 
light beaming from her dark blue eyes proved her 
soul had found comfort during that unseen cove- 
nant with the God of the fatherless and the 
motherless. 


64 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


CHAPTEK VIII. 

“ Home, May — th, 18 — . 

deae Blondine: 

‘^I thought when I left you that the mantle of 
silence had fallen between us forever ; but there is a 
burning something within my bosom that will not 
allow me to rest beneath the wrong I did you. No 
palliation can be found for my heinous offence, and 
I will not insult you with attempted excuses or 
explanations. Even if I endeavored to do so, your 
pure mind could not understand; for you have 
never felt the sway of a diseased and perverted 
heart, which, sick of itself and its surroundings, 
finds existence insupportable unless excited by the 
pursuit of some iniquitous scheme. Your very 
purity and Christian training gave an added zest to 
the pursuit, and, struggle as I would against the 
hell-engendered feelings, I was borne swiftly on to 
my shame. But enough of that. I have thought 
a great deal, Blondine, since separating from you ; 
and — oh, Blondine, writing is cold work — I cannot 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


65 


express on paper the troubled feelings that roll 
through my bosom. Let me come to you ; I wish 
to lay my life at your feet as a partial atonement for 
what I did ; to explain how I loathe my past, and 
wish by your aid to redeem it in the future; to 
show you we can, by running the gauntlet together, 
gain the cover of our grave with fewer scars; to 
show my bosom contains but one wish, and that is 
to gain your forgiveness; that my life holds but 
one aim, and that is by years of labor prove the 
sincerity of my repentance. I have sinned, Blon- 
dine, I have sinned. My past is a wilderness of 
crimes; and it is surprising to myself that I am 
able to ask you to place your pure life into my 
keeping. But you knew I was wicked before, and 
you trusted me ; will you not now forget my crown- 
ing act of shamelessness and come to me ? Come, 
and in the happiness of the new life we will forget 
the pain of the old. 

“If your heart turns from me in loathing, and 
you shrink from trusting me again, let my past, of 
which you know not, plead for me and prevent you 
from adding your displeasure to my already over- 
burdened soul. You do not know, you do not 
know! Oh, Blondine, Blondine, were there more 

such spirits as yours in this unhappy world, there 
6 * 


66 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


would be fewer pangs in my bosom and fewer sins 
upon my soul to-night. 

Your unworthy friend, 

Stanley Huntingdon.” 

The day Blondiue received this unmanly, inco- 
herent letter, she read it again and again. Her 
innocent mind failed to detect its selfishness ; and as 
she wandered restlessly about the grounds, it re- 
quired all the light given her during the past two 
days to banish all the bright possibilities of which 
her heart whispered. She glanced more than Once 
towards the spot that witnessed their parting inter- 
view ; but, as if fearing to trust herself upon a spot 
so fraught with both tender and painful associations, 
she abruptly turned away. 

Entering her room at nightfall, she sat down by 
the open window and, resting her arms upon the 
sill, gazed long into the outer darkness. The cool 
breezes floated in, bearing the fragrance of blossom- 
ing flowers upon their wings. A mocking-bird 
sang its mate to sleep in a neighboring cedar. Fire- 
flies gleamed and sparkled amid the shadows, while 
the lonely cry of a whippoorwill came ringing out 
from the dark woodland. As she was turning from 
the window with a low sigh, a sound caught her 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


67 


ears which arrested the movement and froze the 
warm blood in her veins. It was nothing more 
than the harsh notes of an owl booming through 
the forest, as it scolded and ha, ha’d with its mate, — 
a sound familiar to her ears since childhood, but 
to-night it seemed like the wild laugh of an ex- 
ultant demon gloating over her fallen hopes. Bury- 
ing her face in her arms with a shuddering moan, 
she remained motionless until the weird laughter 
ceased to reverberate through the silent night. 
Then, turning to a table, she began the following 
letter : 

dear Stanley: 

I have read your letter many times to-day, and, 
fearing to allow my weak nature to act the umpire 
in a subject so fraught with weal or woe to us both, 
I have sought guidance from a Source that knows 
no erring. 

What you ask is impossible, Stanley. I have 
had dreams in the past of being your guide, your 
helper, but the past two days have dispelled them 
forever. I would injure you and do myself an 
injustice by accepting your offer. Look no longer 
to a mortal weak as yourself for aid ; but let the 
knowledge of your fatally-brilliant powers constrain 


68 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


you to carry your cause to a higher court than that 
of earth. There, and there only, rests your safety. 

It pains me to know you are suffering, and yet 
it makes me glad ; for only through such repentance 
can our hearts be purified. And, oh ! may it widen 
until it embraces all whom you have wronged, and 
mount until it reaches the God you are wronging 
every hour. 

“ I have finished, yet I dread to fold this page ; 
for it seems like crossing the dead hands of some 
cherished friend. Your sins, Stanley, have sepa- 
rated us in this life ; will you let them separate us in 
the next? Think of it, and may God help you and 
forgive you as fully as I do at this moment. Fare- 
well. It is best we should never meet again. Fare- 
well. Stanley, never a mother watched the erring 
steps of a son with more solicitude than I have 
followed your wayward course. How long will you 
continue thus to fight against my prayers ? Fare- 
well. Oh ! Stanley, Stanley, do not misunderstand 
this letter. Do^not misinterpret my refusal; it is 
not caused by your act, for your letter proves you 
have repented ; but it is caused by the knowledge 
that act has given me. Once more, farewell, 

^^From your sincere friend, 

Blondine.” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


69 


The months rolled slowly away, bringing to 
Blondine diversified rumors of Stanley’s course. 
One day he was seen at church, the next at a horse- 
race; one night spent by a bed of sickness, the 
next at a ball ; now shut for weeks in the seclusion 
of his library, now chasing deer through the cane- 
brakes of the Mississippi bottoms; and, as she 
guessed the dark remorse that urged him on in his 
varied, restless course, her prayers for him arose 
without intermission. Later on, rumors began to 
reach her of his failing fortunes, and of his deter- 
mination to leave the country. She wished to hear 
more definitely ; and while hesitating about writing 
and asking him she received the following note : 

“Well, Blondine, the jig is up, the fiddlers have 
struck for higher wages, — that is, your humble ser- 
vant has ^ suspended payment,^ and will depart ere 
long for the West, the land of gold, the muchly- 
famed California. Would it be asking too much if 
I begged of you a farewell interview? As I will 
never revisit these hills, it will be a farewell inter- 
view in truth. I should not ask it of y6u, perhaps ; 
but man is proverbially selfish, and I could not rest 
in a distant grave did I not bid you, my one true 
friend, farewell. Meet me at our old rendezvous. 
Until then good-by. Stanley.” 


70 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


Returning an affirmative answer, Blondine sought 
the place of meeting, and sat lost in meditation until 
the steady tramp of his horse aroused her. He did 
not come dashing up this morning, as was his wont, 
but rode slowly up to within a few feet of the girl 
before reining in his pony. 

She looked up, as he did not offer to dismount, 
and thus they silently noted the changes which time 
had wrought in each. 

She saw his lips had lost their curl of defiance, 
his eyes no longer blazed with the stirring of pas- 
sion, and saw the ravages of ill-health in his color- 
less face and attenuated form. 

‘^Well, Blondine, the past year has dealt more 
kindly with you than with me,’^ he said, dismount- 
ing and approaching her. 

You do look as if you were suffering,” she an- 
swered, in a shocked tone. “ I had not heard your 
health was failing.” 

It manages to pour when it rains, you know,” 
he said, with a short laugh. I have drawn too 
heavily on the bank of life the past five years, and 
I suppose the grim banker will call for a settlement 
shortly. So be it ; I am content.” 

Content ! Oh, Stanley ” 

Come, Blondine, leave my beautiful and vir- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


71 


tuous life undiscussed. I came to-day to speak of 
other matters.” 

Sitting down by her, he looked earnestly in her 
face a moment, and continued, — 

“ Blondine, I hope you will pardon me if I speak 
of a painful subject; but I wish to ask if your 
mind has undergone any changes during the past 
year concerning the answer you made to my otFer.” 

“ None,” she replied, gently. One reason I had 
for wishing to see you to-day was to tell you that 
in a few months I am to be married.” 

Married !” he echoed, in astonishment. “ Are 
you jesting, Blondine?” 

No.” 

Do I know the man ?” 

“Yes; it is Mr. Bernard.” 

“One of my pet aversions,” he said, his eyes 
lighting up with some of their old fire. “Is it 
possible I will have to love the entire fraternity for 
your sake ?” 

“ I hoped that you had forgotten your old an- 
tipathy towards ministers,” she replied, “ as I have 
heard of your attending church several times during 
the past year.” 

“ Sheer curiosity enticed me there,” he answered, 
carelessly. “ I have been studying up the ministers. 


72 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


the same as I would any other rare animal. Oh, 
Blondine, I can’t believe you ! I can’t believe you !” 
he exclaimed, sadly. ‘‘ You are either jesting with 
me, or sacrificing yourself to some mistaken idea. 
Sinful and worthless as I am, I know that your 
heart is mine ; and ” 

Stanley,” Blondine said, in a pained voice, if 
you are my friend, if you even respect me, please 
say no more on that subject.” 

^^But, Blondine, I have much to say, much to 
urge; you cannot imagine all I wish to tell you. 
I ” 

It is useless, utterly useless, and would pain us 
both ; so leave it unsaid.” 

Looking at her a moment in silence, a slow, de- 
jected smile then came to his lips, as he answered, — 

Well, ^ what won’t be, won’t be, if it does hap- 
pen.’ This, however, dispels several roseate dreams 
of mine, as I was expecting to persuade you to go 
with me to the West.” 

When will you leave ?” 

Immediately, and the earlier now the better, as 
I am discovering after it is too late that man is not 
one-fourth as black as I have painted him. When 
reverses came upon me, I expected the majority of 
my friends to dance jubilee over my downfall, and 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


73 


nerved myself to bear it with Christian fortitude ; 
but many, whom I looked upon as secret enemies, 
have come forward with words of encourage- 
ment and offers of assistance, asking no other 
security than my honor. It is the worst punish- 
ment, however, they could impose upon me ; for it 
shows me up to myself iu my true colors. Had 
they held an indignation meeting and rede me out 
of the county on a rail, I could have muzzled my 
impudent conscience with ‘More sinned against 
than sinning,’ and other such pharisaical phrases 
with which sinners, generally, anoint their precious 
souls. But for men whom I have wronged to come 
with open purses and offers of condolence ! Ugh ! 
that’s just a little too much. Well, there is nothing 
in the world easier than becoming a philosopher; 
just discover you are a fool, and then you are a phi- 
losopher. 

“ I have refused all offers of assistance, however, 
for I wrought the ruin alone, and alone I will suffer 
the consequences. I can save enough from the 
wreck to settle my mother comfortably for life and 
to take me to my destination. Once there, I can 
work or starve, whichever pleases me best. As I 
cannot take you with me, I will be all alone in my 

glory. And should I conclude to secure lodgings 
7 


74 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


in the Pacific Ocean, it will inconvenience no one 
but myself.” 

Stanley, you ” 

Now, Blondine, don’t read me a lecture on the 
audacity of choosing my own time to visit the other 
country; for I assure you — though satisfied of a 
warm reception there — nothing is farther from my 
mind than hastening the excursion. No, no ! I will 
mosy on to a natural end through sheer curiosity. 
I am twenty-four years of age, and feel like an 
octogenarian ; so I intend to nurse myself up to 
that age, if possible, just for the pleasure of dis- 
covering how old I will then feel. Ha, ha | if my 
feelings keep step with my years, as they have done 
hitherto, I imagine I would affect Methuselah, were 
he living, as Littimer affected young Copperfield.” 

Stanley paused, and, looking a few moments at 
Blondine’s sweet, truthful face, continued, — 

‘‘Well, Blondine, your friends and mine are not 
the same, and we cannot indulge in the intoxicating 
bliss of making rag-babies of the characters of our 
mutual Davids; so, as you have laid an embargo 
on certain subjects, I will bid you farewell. Fare- 
well ! what a lonesome word ! We will never meet 
again, Blondine, and under the shadow of that 
thought I will say that which otherwise would have 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


75 


never passed my lips. My levity is not all real ; I 

have had my best feelings Oh, bah ! I am singing 

the time-worn song of every sinner. I am an un- 
blushing scoundrel without one palliating feature ; 
nevertheless, I hope you will think as kindly of me 
as possible when I am far away. You chose well 
in selecting a husband, and may your life be as 
richly blessed as you deserve ; that is asking a great 
deal. Blondine,^’ he continued, rising and taking 
her hand, Time, the world’s tireless Santa Claus, 
is daily scattering presents at our feet; and if he 
leaves misfortune with you at any future day, I 
hope you will remember my name. This is a sel- 
fish request, for I want to enjoy the luxurious feel- 
ing of having done one good act, made one person 
happier. Will you do so?” 

While Blondine listened to this rambling, serio- 
sarcastic speech of Stanley’s, she realized that his 
eyes were open at last, and, though looking with 
weary indifference on all about him, the light thus 
gained had made him more humane and considerate, 
— realized that, though still occasionally interlarding 
his speech with flashes of satirical humor, it was 
more from habit than from feeling ; and her gentle 
bosom was filled with joy at the thought that the 
bitter scoffer was no more. 


76 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


Eising, as he asked would she claim his assist- 
ance if misfortune assailed her, she said, — 

^‘You know I would; and, oh! Stanley, how 
happy you have made me 

Seeing his look of surprise at this exclamation, 
she continued, — 

I mean by the change I discover in you. You 
have endeavored to conceal it by mockings ; but ah, 
Stanley, I have studied you too long to be easily 
deceived. I have always felt that God would re- 
claim you ; and since seeing you to-day I can send 
you from me with perfect confidence. I know the 
thought that I am here in the dear old home pray- 
ing for you will withhold you from evil deeds, 
should temptation assail you during your com- 
panionless wanderings.” 

As he gazed down into the eager, winsome face 
raised to his, that same slow, dejected smile came 
again to his lips ; and, drawing her gently into his 
arms, he said, as he bent and kissed her tenderly, 
reverently, “ Do not be too confident, Blondine : I 
may disappoint you; but, if there is anything on 
God’s great globe that can reclaim and retain me, it 
is the thought of your angel face.” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


77 


CHAPTEE IX. 

Let the reader leave the cotton-crowned hills of 
Mississippi and go with us to the wave-beaten 
shores of the West, where Stanley Huntingdon is 
practising his first steps in economy. 

The excitement of closing out his business, taking 
leave of his friends, and the long, tedious trip 
aboard an emigrant car, told heavily upon his 
weakened frame; and, on arriving in San Fran- 
cisco, he was barely able to drag his steps about the 
city. 

He, like all persons going West, supposed that 
“jobs” were running astray in that land of gold, 
and that if he merely hinted a desire to work twenty 
opportunities would be tendered him at once; so, 
concluding to recuperate a while before accepting 
any situation, he locked up the cheap room which 
he had secured and sought the coast. 

He whiled away the summer wandering among 
the mighty redwoods which cover the hills and 
cations around Aptos and Santa Cruz, and bathing 

in the numberless resorts which that beautiful bay 
7 * 


78 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


affords. Then, crossing to Monterey, he spent sev- 
eral weeks idling among its ancient buildings, 
through its famous groves, and breasting the huge 
billows which bellow unceasingly along that stormy 
shore. The pure air acted like old wine upon his 
feeble pulse; his sluggish blood began coursing 
with its wonted vigor, while the rich color once 
more dyed his cheeks; and after another month 
spent in mountain-climbing around Gilroy, San 
Jos6, and Santa Clara, he felt that Eichard was 
himself again, and determined to return and lay 
San Francisco under lasting obligations to him by 
easing it of one of its encumbering jobs; but found, 
alas ! like many a poor wretch who seeks the West 
with rainbow visions, that life is as intensely real 
there as in Eastern and less favored States. It 
never occurred to his mind that the very powers 
which assured him success in prosperity would de- 
feat him now ; nor did it occur that, notwithstand- 
ing his familiarity with both ancient and modern 
literature, and a varied knowledge of the world and 
his kind generally, he was, after all, nothing more 
than a country innocent when it came to grappling 
with business problems and measuring his mind 
with business men. It never occurred that possibly 
his footsteps might become bewildered in the laby- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


79 


rinthine turnings which lay unexplored before him, 
nor that in competition with men who had trod those 
turnings from their swaddling-clothes he would be 
elbowed aside and distanced in the race. None of 
these humiliating thoughts suggested themselves 
until later ; so there was no shadow of the coming 
events on his face, as he pocketed his letters of 
recommendation and sallied out to select a situation. 

It began to dawn upon him after the first day 
that the city would not have inundated its streets 
with tears had he failed to appear on the scene en- 
tirely. Three days convinced him that the people 
thought they might possibly rub along somehow if 
he refused to assist them altogether, while a week 
made him believe they could bid him bon voyage 
with perfect equanimity. He did find some open- 
ings, however, thanks to his pluck and perseverance, 
and on applying for the position would have his 
laudatory letters read and the question, Have you 
ever engaged in this business before?” shot at him 
like a thunderbolt. No,” he would begin ; but 

” “ Excuse me, sir, but I need a man who is 

thoroughly posted in this line. I am rather pressed 
for time this morning. Ah ! must you go ? Then 
take a cigar, Mr. Huntingdon, take a cigar. From 
Mississippi ? Like to go there. Fine country ! 


80 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


Hope you will succeed. Call around again. Good- 
morning.” 

This interesting conversation was repeated from 
place to place, till it buzzed through Stanley’s brain, 
oppressing him like a living nightmare with a sense 
of his disqualifications. Hd saw men possessing 
not half of his native talents lifted into lucrative 
positions, while he was turned away; and, after 
thinking over the matter a while, the reason became 
palpable. He realized that while others had been 
serving terms in this work-day world with an eye to 
just such positions, he had been cultivating his 
imagination, idling through the depths of his native 
woodlands, or lounging, fishing-pole in hand, on 
the banks of some dark lagoon. While others had 
been studying the laws of trade, the secrets of 
friendly or political influence, and other unfathom- 
able mysteries with which man, with an eye to pro- 
tection or aggression, cloaks his moneyed interests, 
he had been travelling among the clouds on the 
wings of some mighty bard, or tossing restlessly 
upon a midnight couch, as his mind wasted its 
energies plotting the consummation of some shame- 
ful intrigue. 

Realizing, more fully day by day, the wide differ- 
ence between himself and those about him, Stanley 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


81 


slackened his arduous pursuit after employment, 
and engaged in the still more arduous task of 
killing time as he idled listlessly about the city. 
The thought of seeking the favorable patronage of 
some man of influence did not occur to his haughty 
mind ; and, had it done so, he would doubtless have 
spurned it from him in contempt ; for his spirit had 
stood erect and independent too long to begin bend- 
ing its knee for favors. And had necessity com- 
pelled him, and an opportunity been afforded, he 
would have been utterly ignorant of the most ap- 
proved style of procedure; and so elephantine 
would have been the attempt that those to whom 
his spirit knelt would have spurned him. 

As he wandered thus, discouraged and disconso- 
late, about the city, his eyes would often mechani- 
cally seek the bay, but as often his mocking speech 
to Blondine about hastening his visit to the other 
country would recur to his mind ; and so peculiarly 
constructed is the human make-up that those 
thoughtless words deterred him from seeking des- 
perate remedies for present ills more effectually than 
dread of the grave and of the unknown. “No, 
no,” he muttered, with a grim smile ; “ I will ^ mosy 
on to a natural end’ if I have to break stones along 
the route to pay my fare.” 


82 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


Between his room and the restaurant at which he 
ate his meals was a large block of buildings in 
course of erection. He had stopped there so often 
in going back and forth that he had become famil- 
iar with several of the workmen ; especially so with 
one, a tall, large-limbed, broad-shouldered young 
fellow, who was a New Yorker by birth, and 
Baines by name, as he learned during several of 
their short conversations. 

While watching Raines joint some window-jambs 
one morning, Stanley suddenly turned to him and 
said, — 

*^Do you need any more workmen, Mr. Raines? 
If so, I would like to obtain employment from you.’’ 

^‘Did you ever work at this before?” 

Good God !” Stanley exclaimed, springing from 
the bench on which he had been seated. 

Hoity-toity ! Can’t a man ask a civil question ?” 
Raines said, looking at him in surprise. 

‘^Certainly,” Stanley answered, breaking into a 
laugh; ‘^but that question has been put to me so 
often of late, that it sounds like a dirge of the 
damned. No, Mr. Raines, I have never worked 
at carpentry for a liviug ; but I can do as you did : 
I can learn.” 

But why do you choose this trade for ” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


83 


“ I will briefly state my case,” Stanley inter- 
rupted, “which will save breath and golden mo- 
ments. I am a native Mississippian, and my 
present occupation, much against my natural in- 
clination, is loafing. I arrived in this city several 
months ago with vaulting ideas of Western resources, 
which reality has unconditionally collapsed ; though, 
I must confess, the country is not entirely to blame. 
My past life endowed me with such a fund of ig- 
norance that it blocks up what avenues do other- 
wise remain invitingly open; so, the consequence 
is, I am stranded high and dry upon a dissolving 
purse; and unless ” 

“Say, stranger, sprinkle in a few every-day 
words, will you ? The clatter and crash of my trade 
has dulled my brain so that it cannot take in too 
many jaw-twisters at once.” 

“Well,” Stanley replied, with a laugh, “I’m 
busted and want work. Will that answer?” 

“Yes; sounds more like a Christian,” Kaines 
answered, scratching his thumb and looking hard at 
Stanley. “Would you work under my orders?” 

“ Certainly.” 

After operating a few moments longer on his 
thumb, Raines broke into a dry laugh, and said, — 

“See here, pardner, may my neck be twisted if 


84 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


you haven’t raised my curiosity. I want to see 
what sort of stuff is in you ; and, if you will let me, 
I will take you in hand and see you through if I 
never do see the back of my neck again.” 

Looking a moment into the honest, good-natured 
face, Stanley extended his hand and said, am 
yours to command.” 

Holy Mother !” Kaines exclaimed, squeezing 
the supple fingers, ^^you haven’t hardened these 
knuckles against niggers’ heads, that’s certain.” 

** Oh no,” Stanley replied, with an amused smile; 
“ I am on the St. Clair order.” 

“Haw, haw! Well, get you a nine-point saw, a 
steel square, a jack-plane, a rule, hammer, apron, 
and jumper, and be here at seven in the morning. 
I will furnish you with other tools as you need 
them.” 

“Very well, Mr. Raines, I will be on hand.” 

“ And another thing : my name is John ; plain 
John Raines.” 

“ All right, John. My name is Stanley, but Sam, 
Jack, Pete, or any other name I’ll answer to.” 

“ Haw, haw I you’ll do. So long.” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


85 


CHAPTER X. 

It would fill a volume to follow Stanley step by 
step as he explored the mysteries of carpentry ; to 
narrate the many difficulties which harassed him at 
first, and the mishaps which constantly attended 
him; to explain why the hammer would mistake 
his finger for the nail, and give it a rap which 
would put it in mourning for a week; why the 
saw, in defiance of his most earnest entreaties, 
would stubbornly refuse to follow the line; why 
the braces and bits, the moment he laid hands upon 
them, would get disgracefully drunk, and bore 
cross-legged in the most absurd manner; or why 
the foreman would invariably choose the time when 
Raines was absent to give him orders in his car- 
penter’s jargon, which was about as lucid to Stanley 
as so much Comanche. 

Fortunately, Raines had a large lot of doors and 
window-frames to make, and was thus enabled to 
keep Stanley pretty well under his own wing. 
Morning, noon, and night he taught Stanley the 
various cuts; the secrets of the square; how to 


86 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


obtain the pitch of a roof; how to throw a building 
into squares in order to estimate the amount of 
lumber needed, etc., until Stanley became competent 
to build a house theoretically ere he could prac- 
tically. He determined, however, to be worthy of 
so faithful a teacher, and, putting aside everything 
else, bent all the energies he possessed towards mas- 
tering the trade. He had a correct eye and a cun- 
ning hand, which are everything in mechanism, and 
ere long Raines passed from encouraging into 
praising and admiring his apt pupil. He concluded, 
a few days after Stanley began work, that he dis- 
liked his boarding-house, and engaged a room ad- 
joining that of Stanley, eating his meals at the 
same restaurant, thus affording Stanley the oppor- 
tunity of uninterruptedly pursuing his curriculum. 
And so faithfully did Raines discharge his duties as 
professor that Stanley began to catch himself me- 
chanically mitring the bread, coping the beefsteaks, 
tracing panels in the butter, and drawing mansard- 
roofs in the mashed potatoes, — perhaps running 
carrots or some other long-limbed vegetable through 
them for purlines. His nights became haunted 
with bay-windows and hectagonal towers, which he 
was invariably climbing for some purpose, only to 
discover, after all, it was nothing more than the bed- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


87 


post. So persistently did this grow upon him that 
he became uneasy, and implored Raines to rest on 
his oars until the mechanic’s fever had somewhat 
abated. 

It is impossible for two persons to be constantly 
associated without each influencing the other to a 
greater or a less degree ; and these two, so dissimilar 
and seemingly unsuited in every way, were of vast 
benefit to each other. Raines had spent his life, so 
far, in a happy-go-lucky style, — contented if he 
earned a full week’s wages and could have an occa- 
sional night with the ^^boys,” which meant a royal 
time, money all squandered, and a balloon-like head 
the following morning as a reminder of the joys 
that had flown. He had anticipated a glorious time 
initiating Stanley into the mysteries of the city by 
lamplight ; but, on his proposition to take in the 
town together” being met with a decided negative, 
he good-naturedly abandoned the enterprise and 
remained at home. He knew Stanley was fitted by 
birth and education to fill a higher station in life, 
and seeing how uncomplainingly he hid his feel- 
ings and pursued the present occupation as if his 
only aim in life was to succeed at carpentry caused 
a love of almost womanly tenderness to grow up in 
his big heart for the quiet, resolute young South- 


88 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


erner, which determiued him to abandon his own 
hitherto aimless ways and live in the future to some 
purpose ; while Stanley, feeling under lasting ob- 
ligations to Raines, and respecting his many sterling 
qualities, subdued the irritation which the uncouth 
ways and rude familiarity of the latter occasioned at 
times, and exerted himself to make a pleasant com- 
panion. This brought its own reward, for it pre- 
vented his mind from dwelling too deeply on the 
past, and as his heart warmed more and more to- 
wards the frank, generous nature, his own caught a 
spark of the vigorous animal vivacity glowing in 
the bosom of the other. 

After securing a borrower’s card from the library, 
Stanley read aloud from the many volumes thus ob- 
tained, while Raines would sit listening for hours. 
Hearing an unusually thrilling romance one even- 
ing, Raines gave his leg a sounding slap, and said, — 

“I never cared much for learning before, but 
twist my neck if I wouldn’t give the wage of three 
years had I yours to-night !” 

It would not take long to acquire a taste for 
reading,” Stanley said, turning to him with a smile ; 

and such an acquirement, or a wife who can man- 
age you, is about all that will prevent you from 
running wild among your boon companions.” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 89 

“ Haw, haw ! Duke” (that was the name he had 
given Stanley). ‘‘When you begin to speak of a 
little wifey, your words tumble somersaults all over 
my heart.” 

“ You would like to own one, would you?” 

“Now you’re shoutin’,” Raines exclaimed, spread- 
ing all over his chair. “ If I had a little woman to 
make me stand around, I wouldn’t swap boots with 
the President. That arm,” he continued, extending 
the brawny limb, “ looks big enough to care for a 
little darling, don’t it ?” 

“ Yes,” Stanley answered, laughing ; “ and the 
first steady, domestic girl I find, I will try my hand 
at matchmaking.” 

“ Do it, Duke, and twist my neck if you ever 
regret it. Ah I how nice it would be if I had a 
wife and a cosey little home, just big enough for us 
three! She could fetch us our lunches at noon, 
have your slippers, books, and table ready for you 
at night; and, while you read to us, we could swap 
kisses on the sly. Ugh I it makes me lonesome to 
think of it.” 

This counting him in with the simple details of 
his home touched Stanley deeper than the loudest 
protestations of friendship WQuld have done; for it 

proved his welfare was unconsciously interwoven 
8 * 


90 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


with every impulse of the generous nature, and that 
it would count no happiness complete unless shared 
with him. 

As Stanley became accustomed to the work, his 
mind, being no longer engrossed with the labor of 
learning, recoiled upon itself, and, after exhausting 
all the home resources, began making excursions 
into the past. On returning loaded with scenes of 
his youth as souvenirs of the trip, it would summon 
a conclave of its forces, and, laying those relics be- 
fore the learned assembly, attempt to analyze and 
discover, if possible, what peculiar effect of climate, 
or convulsion of nature, caused their origin. But 
after acting as any body of lawyers, physicians, or 
theologians over a knotty problem, by disagreeing, 
and displaying a vast amount of erudition to no 
purpose, it, unlike the others, would give it up and 
fall back on the old but ever sad refrain, “It 
might have been.” This madrigal, however, was 
often brought to an untimely end, and the professors 
turned ignominiously out of doors, by a rap of the 
hammer upon Stanley’s finger or a glancing hatchet 
against his knee. Then red-hot anathemas would 
smash the chairs, overturn the tables, and go thump- 
ing around the room in which the thunders of^ de- 
bate had so lately reverberated. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


91 


He quickly discovered that he would be compelled 
to relinquish either his trade or such thoughts, as 
edged tools possess neither eyes nor conscience, 
though endowed with an inquiring turn of mind, 
which prompts them to explore your anatomy when- 
ever the watchman Mind has his back turned. 
His feelings most enthusiastically prompted the 
former ; but the ever troublesome bank account and 
memories of that dry old dirge, ‘‘Have you ever 
worked at this before made the latter victorious ; 
so, tearing up the track which led into the past, he 
ditched the engines, discharged the engineers, and 
turned, reanimated and resolutely, again to his work. 
But, like the murderer who double locks and bars 
forty-nine doors and leaves the fiftieth standing 
open, he locked each door and sealed every crack 
facing the past, and left the window open to the 
mail-bag. Consequently, he was daily crucified 
afresh by receiving letters from his friends, — letters 
that came like invigorating breezes from his native 
hills, but, alas ! reminded him of scenes over which 
he dared not dwell. The very gayety of some of 
these letters seemed an insult to his barren lot, as 
they questioned him about the country and himself, 
begging him to send them something as a souvenir 
of that land, such as a mountain, a volcano, a 


92 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


gold-mine, anything that he could conveniently 
send by mail; but, with the usual perverseness of 
human nature, instead of closing the window, he 
threw it wider still by writing more and merrier 
letters in return, — letters with a tone of his old, 
careless self ringing through every line, while each 
syllable, as he penned it, seemed to mock him with 
the bitter contrast. 

When a novelist is depicting a hero whom mis- 
fortune has dragged from his high estate down upon 
a level with the common herd, I believe the most 
approved style of procedure is to compel his asso- 
ciates to see the stamp of nobility upon the com- 
manding, godlike brow, and to feel the intrinsic 
superiority shining from the unfathomable eyes: 
thus seeing and feeling, their little spirits sink upon 
trembling knees in order to be enabled to look up 
to the fallen unfortunate. But, as it is my wish to 
associate more closely with facts than with style, I 
am constrained to acknowledge, so far from Stanley’s 
brother-workmen getting down to look up at his 
loveliness, they thought it was unaccountable why 
he was not overawed in their society, as they were 
finer mechanics, and, of course, in their own eyes, 
superior men. They also took umbrage because, 
while sitting around at noon eating their lunches. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


93 


he, far from being consumed with admiration of 
their vast intellects, ate his dinner and smoked his 
cigar with the utmost sang-froid, while they pa- 
raded their inexhaustible stores of wisdom in able 
discussion, — even preserving his composure while 
they cracked their wittiest jokes. This last was 
inexcusable, especially in one so young ; and I fear, 
had not Raines (a prime favorite with them all) so 
strenuously defended him, the old, old dirge would 
have rung again in his ears. Had he been a block- 
head, they could have treated him with pitying con- 
tempt, and been at rest ; but they knew he was not, 
— knew he could talk, and talk like a lawyer at 
that, when he felt so disposed ; and why one pos- 
sessing a glib tongue would not wag it was utterly 
incomprehensible. There he was, invariably cour- 
teous, obliging, unembarrassed, and coolly uncon- 
cerned about them and their affairs, and seeming to 
think they should be equally so about him and his. 
Tin's, within itself, was sufficiently tantalizing ; but, 
not content with that, he must add insult to injury 
by possessing such a confident bearing that it in- 
spired them with visions of blackened eyes and 
broken heads, when they thought of assailing him 
with ridicule. The very acme of aggravation was 
reached at this point, and woe, woe, young man, if 


94 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


you ever trip, for you will be buried beneath the 
torrents of their pent-up and rapidly-accumulating 
wrath. 

To do the workmen justice, however, the majority 
of them were good, sensible fellows, possessing 
foibles, it is true, like all mankind ; but one forgot 
those while contemplating their many sterling qual- 
ities. They merely misunderstood Stanley. This, 
however, was not surprising, nor were they any 
more obtuse in that than he, for the misunder- 
standing was mutual ; so they concluded at last, if 
he chose to pursue a course contrary to their estab- 
lished rules of etiquette, the loss was his, and left 
him to entertain himself as he saw fit. 


CHAPTER XL 

Dear reader, have you ever been in California? 
If not, seize the first opportunity which presents 
itself to visit that land of climate. Cross its burn- 
ing deserts, idle among its redwood forests, feel its 
earthquake shocks, stand upon some lofty ridge 
with the dark heaving ocean stretching away to the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


95 


west, wliile tier on tier of rugged hills climbs to the 
skies on the east, and feel amply rewarded for your 
trouble. Then, having gazed your fill upon cluster- 
ing towns and populous valleys, come with me to 
the Coast Range of mountains, where the princely 
residence of Colonel Ellswaith, seated upon its 
sunny slopes, overlooks the beautiful valley of 
Santa Clara. The building is a two-story frame, 
with verandas encircling both lower and upper 
stories; the rustic siding is painted a dazzling 
white, the window-blinds a deep green, while the 
railings, ceiling, and columns of the verandas are 
stained an oaken color. The grounds are a wilder- 
ness of artistically arranged shrubbery and flower- 
beds, while spire-like eucalyptes follow the gravelled 
drive, in serried ranks, to the valley beneath. The 
heights above the house are covered with vine- 
yards ; the level land to the right is shadowed with 
orchard-trees of every variety; while to the left 
lies a wild, rocky gorge choked with chaparral and 
buttonwoods, and down which a mountain stream 
churns itself to foam in its haste to reach the valley 
beyond. Seated thus beneath vine-clad heights, 
with foliage-crowned hills to the right and to the 
left, and looking across earth’s fairest valley to the 
shadowy outlines of mountains beyond, I defy the 


96 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


famed travellers of our time to produce a spot where 
beauty and grandeur are more happily blended. 

Colonel Ellswaith, having amassed a princely 
fortune in New York, became enamored of Cali- 
fornia’s beautiful scenery and salubrious climate 
during his travels through that State ; and, return- 
ing East, closed out his business, and transferred 
himself and millions to this beautiful spot, lavish- 
ing everything upon it which art could suggest or 
money obtain. 

He was a tall, portly old gentleman, with none 
of that suspicious haughtiness in his genial nature 
which mars so many of our successful business 
men, but, having the blood of gentlemen in his 
veins, lived not in holy horror of contamination by 
contact with poorer and, of course, less blue-blooded 
unfortunates. His wife, however, being less fortu- 
nate in point of birth, and having his grand old 
name coupled with his unlimited wealth at her 
command, invariably surrounded herself with the 
most absolute but, if the truth were known, 

I fear the old colonel, though standing somewhat in 
awe of his lady, had many a secret chuckle over the 
frantic efforts it cost this high-bred dame to shield 
her skirts from that great body of ought-to-be- 
hanged unwashed. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


97 


They were childless, and the only other occu- 
pant of the mountain home was Irene Ellswaith, 
the coloneFs orphaned niece. She had arrived, six 
months before this chapter opens, from the East ; 
and, as a rich and beautiful young heiress is a great 
acquisition to any circle. East or West, there had 
been no dearth of amusement since her advent upon 
the scene. Those who had enjoyed the princely 
hospitality of her uncle before, now became ‘all but 
intoxicated in the presence of so much wealth and 
sweetness, and the adulation which assailed her on 
every hand would have utterly demoralized one less 
evenly poised than herself. 

Early left an orphan with an ample fortune of 
her own, Irene, regardless of conventionalities, had 
pursued the paths which suited her rare and vigor- 
ous intellect; but society can allow great latitude 
to its reigning beauty, especially if that beauty is 
blessed with a goodly flock of the golden calves 
which the nineteenth-century sinners worship equally 
as ardently as the Israelites worshipped the golden 
calf of old. 

Portray the slender throat, the shell-like ears, and 
delicate nostrils of this high-bred beauty faithfully 
as I may, the picture would yet be incomplete, for 

the subtle charm of her presence is wanting ; so let 
9 


98 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


the reader picture his or her ideal of a perfect 
woman and Irene Ellswaith will stand revealed. 

There was one visitor at the mountain home who 
seemed destined to subdue the heart of the high- 
spirited Irene. This was a young man, Lawrence 
Hamilton by name, and Californian by birth, 
though his parents were Pennsylvanians. His 
father, in California parlance, was a forty-niner, 
and, ‘^striking it rich^^ in the “gold diggings,’^ had 
moved his family into a palatial residence, not ex- 
actly on, but near. Nob Hill in San Francisco. Here 
he now lived in almost princely splendor, only soil- 
ing his fingers by occasionally dabbling in mining 
stocks, etc. He and Colonel Ellswaith were warm 
personal friends, and had often discussed the desira- 
bility of “ pooling^’ their vast fortunes by a union 
between son and niece : this accounted for young 
Hamilton’s presence in Colonel Ellswaith’s home. 

As the shadows of evening crept out across the 
broad valley, and the slanting sunbeams began play- 
ing, like golden orioles, about the crests of the 
opposite mountains, Irene and Lawrence came out 
of the house and seated themselves upon the cool 
veranda. 

“ To look on that peaceful scene,” Irene said, 
gazing out over the quiet valley, “ brings to ray 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


99 


mind Mohammed’s famous words, as he turned his 
back upon Damascus. It seems impossible that an 
unquiet feeling or an unworthy thought could be 
harbored in a spot so blessed by nature.” 

“If the hearts of its inhabitants were revealed 
to you now,” he answered, “you would, I fear, be 
deplorably disillusionized.” Then, seeing that his 
words grated on her ears, he continued : “ It is a 
beautiful spot, and, though I never admired the 
country before, this trip has almost decided me to 
found a home in these parts that will rival your 
uncle’s in beauty and elegance.” 

“ After the new wore away,” she replied, “ you 
would surpass Shy lock bemoaning your wasted 
ducats.” 

“ I thought nature and the country were especial 
wards of yours.” 

“You and I are quite different personages,” she 
answered, carelessly. “ I do love pure, unadulterated 
nature; but for one like yourself, whose grandest 
sunset is the glitter of gold, whose favorite prome- 
nade is the crowded street, and whose music is the 
rush and roar of traffic, her secluded haunts would 
soon become insupportably dull. Do not wince,” 
she continued, smiling at his slight grimace; “mine 
is not a partisan spirit which sees no good nor 


100 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


beauty beyond its own circle of action and pleasures. 
It is your nature to love the world’s pageantries, 
mine to love those of our common mother, — that 
is all.” 

Thank you,” he said, bowing with mock gravity ; 
“ I appreciate your liberality ; but when you speak 
with such lofty scorn of the world’s frivolities, the 
fear assails me that you intend eschewing them al- 
together. I hope you will cast a pitying veil over 
the features of your weak brother when they are 
distorted with longings after the flesh-pots of Egypt, 
and allow him to worship you from afar, on the day 
when, turning from those same vulgar flesh-pots, 
you immolate yourself upon some cherished altar. 
Which altar shall it be, woman’s rights or ” 

Wax sarcastic much as you like,” Irene inter- 
rupted, but truth compels you to acknowledge it 
is the stupid selfishness of your brothers which is 
driving my sisters into this movement.” 

Far be it from me to turn traitor to my 
brothers,” Lawrence answered ; and even if I 
attempted to do so, like Balaam, the contrary would 
be forced from my lips when I looked abroad and 
realized that the ladies own this round globe entire, 
with my unhappy brothers for their ministers. 
Woman, seated upon the lofty pedestal of her own 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


101 


sweet will, determines upon the ruin of a kingdom 
or the relief of a hovel ; and straightway the lords 
— lords, forsooth ! her thrice-fettered slaves — of the 
sterner (?) sex go meekly forth to do her bidding ; 
yet, O insatiable ambition ! the cry still rises for 
loftier pedestals, brighter sceptres, and more abso- 
lute sway. But believe me. Miss Ellswaith, the 
high-places of earth have been so thoroughly sur- 
rendered to you that you must conquer some other 
sphere before you can gain anything new. I 
thought, however,” he continued, dropping his ban- 
tering tone, that you, for one, were not in sym- 
pathy with this movement?” 

You thought right,” she answered ; “ nor am I 
likely to uphold all this movement embraces while 
I can interpret my Bible.” 

“ You relieve me ; but will you excuse me if I 
hint that you are behind the day? The Bible 
theories have long been exploded and set aside.” 

Even if that were true,” she replied, pensively, 
“ woman’s position in life would still be unchanged.” 

How so ?” 

Why, if Moses is discarded, Darwin takes his 
place,” she answered ; “ and whether or not my sex 
would be benefited by the transfer I will leave for 

others to watch the ways of nature’s creatures and 
9 * 


102 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


decide. But let poor, grovelling minds claim de- 
scent from any source they please, or interpret the 
Scriptures as suits their mean conceptions best, the 
reverence due my Maker, and my duty towards the 
one who claims my hand, are as plain to my heart 
and mind as are the follies of our times.” 

The moon had ridden high in the clear heavens 
as they conversed, flooding all the scene with its 
golden beams ; and as Irene sat with a light zephyr 
shawl caught carelessly about her queenly head, she 
presented such a rare, exquisite picture to her com- 
panion that all his caution and resolves were for- 
gotten, and, catching up her hand, he said, in low, 
rapid tones, — 

You are right in that, as you are in everything, 
and you would make me the happiest man that 
moon is looking upon at this hour did you give me 

this hand and yield ” 

Sir,” she said, drawing her hand away haugh- 
tily, ^‘you forget yourself; I never dreamed of 

your taking advantage ” 

‘^Excuse my abruptness,” he interrupted, hur- 
riedly; ‘^but you surely have discovered ere this 
that I love you, and that the one hope of my life is 
to gain your love and win you for my wife.” 

“You honor me beyond my deserts,” she an- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


103 


swered, coldly, and I thank you for it ; but what 
you ask can never be/^ 

“ Do not say that, Irene,” he cried, in an agitated 
tone ; anything but that. Take weeks, months, 
years, to consider my otfer, if your love is yet your 
own to give, and I will work for it as man never 
worked before.” 

As her ears detected the sharp pain in his voice, 
a softer light shone in Irene’s dark eyes, and, giving 
him her hand, she said, — 

I do not bid you hope ; but, as you have asked 
it, I will consider your offer, and will give you an 
answer one week from to-night.” 

You render me happy by granting that much,” 
he answered, bowing over her hand ; and. Miss 
Ellswaith, let the knowledge that the sunshine or 
shadow of my life is under consideration plead for 
me. I have much to offer you, — youth, wealth, and 
a spotless name ; and if you will accept that name, I 
will build an elegant residence in these hills, so that 
you may reign queen alternately in my city home 
and in these your favorite haunts.” 

A shadow of disappointment usurped the soft 
light in her lustrous eyes as he closed this noble 
speech with an appeal to her cupidity, and, rising, 
she said, — 


104 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


will remember all this, and let you know 
my decision. We must return now or the company 
will wonder at our prolonged absence.’^ 


CHAPTER XIL 

One of Stanley’s brother-workmen was an old 
gentleman named McLeod, whose dry humor and 
shrewd, quaint sayings had often amused him 
during their very rare conversations. This old 
man was the proud possessor of a contented-looking 
wife and a buxom young daughter, who brought 
his lunches at noon, and sat beside him looking 
complacently on while he, with his broad face and 
high cheek-bones fairly beaming with good humor, 
swiftly demolished his meal. 

A dull sense of his own selfish isolation would 
frequently trouble Stanley while lying around in the 
shavings watching this contented group. I am a 
horny-handed son of toil,” he would muse bitterly, 
“and yet I deny myself a laborer’s only solace. 
Look at that trio; they are brimming over with 
contentment. What more could life afford them ? 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


105 


Are they not wiser than I? Yea, most assuredly. 
Then why continue thus, Micawber-like, waiting for 
something to turn up ? Why not rid myself of an 
ambition which can yield me nothing but discontent, 
win the fair hand of some workman’s daughter, and 
live so that mine old age will present to the world 
another such group as that ? 

The daughter is finely formed, has a merry blue 
eye, and will settle into a cheerful old age like her 
mother ; so why not win her guileless love, have her 
to fetch my lunches, brighten my home, and go 
with me down to a contented grave? Let me pluck 
aside the veil and glance across the crested waves of 
swiftly coming years to view the thrilling scene. 
Behold a neat little cottage with my sturdy Jean 
standing in the door, and rosy-cheeked children 
playing about the steps. Presently a manly stride 
is heard, and the father — that is, I, dressed in over- 
alls and jumper, with pipe stuck in my mouth — 
comes swinging up the path. Hark ! hear the 
joyous shout as the children toddle to meet him, the 
^ envied kiss to share.’ There it is, — a pleasant home, 
a contented wife, healthy children, a laborer’s appe- 
tite, and a laborer’s rest. What more could the heart 
of workman desire ? Ha, ha ! why do you shrink 
from the inviting picture? Verily, verily, young 


106 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


sir, you are difficult to please. Perhaps, in time, I 
could found me a green grocery ; then the very acme 
of mundane felicity would be gained. I could deal 
out parsnips, carrots, turnips, and smiles to my 
neighbors, receiving their pennies and floating gossip 
in exchange, until I became a mighty man in the 
community. Ah ! let me close my eyes and revel 
a while in the glorious vision. But perdition seize 
such mocking ! Would not baby Angers open my 
flinty heart to love, and exorcise the defiant devil in 
my nature? Soft!^^ he said, rising suddenly, there 
is Baines; manlike, I am forgetting the generous, 
whole-souled fellow in dreams of my own aggran- 
dizment. But you shall have the bonny Jean, old 
boy, if I can pave the way ; so here goes.’’ 

Crossing to where the old man was sitting alone, 
his wife and daughter having returned home, Stan- 
ley seated himself opposite, and said, — 

Mr. McLeod, I have come to broach a strange 
subject, and I fear you will think too much whiskey 
hath made me mad; but if I become entirely too 
audacious, you have my permission to bring me to 
order with the aid of one of the many boards lying 
around.” 

All right ; heave to, my lad,” the old man an- 
swered, laughing. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


107 


‘‘You have a daughter, Mr. McLeod, who will 

marry some day, I suppose, and I ” 

“ Come, Duke the old man interrupted. “ I have 
a daughter it is true, and that she will marry some 
day is also true, — in fact, I would not object to a 
sober, industrious lad courting her now; but if you 
were that lad I would tell you to look elsewhere.’^ 
“Then you do not count me sober and indus- 
trious?” Stanley replied, with a quiet smile. 

“ You are sober and industrious, yes ; but, qniet 
and seemingly contented as you are, I would as soon 
think of trusting the happiness of my child with a 
Comanche Indian as with one of your volcanic 
nature. Mate with your kind, Duke, mate with 
your kind. That^s my motto.” 

“In other words,” Stanley replied, carelessly, 
“you would advise me to choose a red-hot terma- 
gant who could return a Roland for my Oliver or 
a rolling-pin for my boot-jack. But, as it was not 
for myself I was speaking, I will not challenge the 
correctness of your diagnosis. I was speaking for a 
friend of mine, McLeod, as you would have heard 
had you allowed me to proceed ; and, as friends are 
rather scarce articles at my house at present, you 
know to whom I allude.” 

“ As to Raines,” the old man said, after a pause. 


108 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


I could find no objections. So, if he can win my 
daughter's consent, he will have mine.’^ 

Good !’’ Stanley replied ; he and I will be at 
your house Sunday evening next.” 

You will find us at home, and I want it under- 
stood that Raines must break this to Jean himself ; 
in other words, must do his own courting.” 

Very well,” Stanley replied. It will save em- 
barrassment doubtless. But there goes the whistle.” 

As Stanley and Raines were returning home after 
work-hours, Raines slapped Stanley on the shoulder 
and said, ^^The boss received a note this morning 
from an old codger named Ellswaith, living out in 
the foot-hills, wanting him to send a man to do 
some work on his house ; and the boss was about to 
refuse, as the last three men he sent came packing 
back in twenty-four hours mad enough to murder 
him for sending them ; but I pursuaded him to try 
you. So pack your duds and go down on the 
morning’s express to-morrow.” 

‘^What was the trouble with the other men?” 
Stanley asked ; has he a weakness for setting bull- 
dogs on workmen ?” 

No ; the old gentleman is polite as a Muscovy 
duck ; it is the grand duchess, his lady, who kicks 
up the row. You see, they, and their house, are so 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


109 


very fine that a common man must put on slippers 
before he is allowed into their presence and on the 
fine carpets. Besides, they will not allow us to sit 
at the same table, but send us to the kitchen with 
the Chinamen ; and, you know, California workmen 
are not the meek and lowly creatures that this lady 
is used to in the East.” 

I suppose you think, as I am lately from the 
East, I will not object to dining with the Chinamen ?” 

Hang it, no ! of course you would object ; but, 
quiet as you are on that score, I know you are ac- 
customed to such people, and thought, perhaps, you 
could manage to keep them in good humor until the 
work is finished.” 

I will try at least,” Stanley replied, especially 
as I long to take a trip to the country. I would 
draw the line at eating with the Chinamen, but 
am willing to take my meals alone, in any decent 
place they choose to put them. But this interferes 
with an engagement I made with your prospective 
father-in-law.” 

“ I saw you talking with old Mac,” Baines said, 
his jolly face lighting up. Did you feel of him 
any ?” 

He told me to tell you that when you get his 

daughter’s consent you will have his.” 

10 


110 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


Oh, glory !” Raines cried, catching off his hat 
and executing a war-dance. 

Come on, man ; the police will run you in for a 
lunatic.” 

“ Let ’em run ! Let ’em run ! Duke, you’re a 
brick ! Let me hug you, old fellow, just once.” 

Nonsense ! save that for the bonny Jean.” 

Stanley regretted this retort the next moment ; for 
it caused Raines to cut an extra pigeon-wing and 
wind up his absurdities by embracing a lamp-post. 

‘^Duke,” he said, overtaking Stanley, who had 
walked on and left him, tell me all he said.” 

“ I will when I get you off the street.” 

Haw, haw, haw !” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

For one sick of the city and its bustle, the short 
run down the Southern Pacific Railroad and the 
horseback-ride across a beautiful valley in the early 
morning were a treat indeed ; and all too soon Stan- 
ley began ascending the foot-hills to Colonel Ells- 
waith’s home. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


Ill 


To the servant who answered the bell and bowed 
him into the parlor Stanley said, ^^Tell Colonel 
Ellswaith the carpenter has arrived, and he will 
understand.” 

In a few moments the colonel entered, with a 
puzzled look on his face, and said, as Stanley rose 
to meet him, — 

Good-morning, Mr. Carpenter. Keep your seat, 
sir, keep your seat.” 

Excuse me, sir,” Stanley replied, but my name 
is Huntingdon, — Stanley Huntingdon.” 

Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hunting- 
don. My servant misunderstood the name.” 

I told him to inform you that the carpenter had 
arrived.” 

The carpenter ? What carpenter ?” 

Am I not addressing Colonel Ellswaith ?” 

That is my name ; you are, sir.” 

Did you not write to the city for a workman to 
do some necessary repairing about your house ?” 

I did, sir ; yes.” 

Then I am at your service, sir.” 

^‘What! you a workman!” the colonel cried, 
looking at him in astonishment. 

“ I am, sir, and a good one, as I hope to prove.” 

The colonel looked at him a few moments in 


112 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


silence, then, rising, paced back and forth across the 
room, chuckling all the while to himself. After a 
few minutes spent thus he halted before Stanley and 
said, — 

“ Mr. Huntingdon, you have it in your power to 
render me a great favor.” 

“ Then command me,” Stanley replied, courteously. 

Will you conceal the business which brought 
you here, and remain until to-morrow as my guest ?” 

“Why do you wish this masquerade?” Stanley 
asked, looking at him in surprise. 

“ Well, sir, you see my wife has peculiar ideas 
concerning workmen, and the masses generally, and 
— hem ! — so ” 

“ And so you wish to exhibit a specimen under 
the most favorable auspices ? But you must excuse 
me, sir, if I refuse to figure as that specimen,” Stan- 
ley interrupted, his cheeks paling with wrath. 

As the low, cutting tones fell upon the colonel’s 
ear, he looked more keenly at Stanley ; then, offer- 
ing him his hand, said, — 

“ Mr. Huntingdon, let my gray hairs inspire you 
with sufficient confidence to believe I will place you 
in no position likely to wound your feelings. I ask 
you, as one gentleman asks another, to remain my 
guest to-day ; and, as there is more in this than you 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


113 


can see, I confidently trust that you will lay aside 
all scruples and gratify my whim.” 

will bear out any r6le you assign to me,” 
Stanley replied, after a short pause, which he had 
given to consideration. 

^‘You make me your debtor,” the colonel said, 
warmly. “ But time presses. What State are you 
from? Mississippi? Good! the role is easy. 
You are a young Southerner looking at the coun- 
try, which — ha, ha! — is the truth. Excuse me a 
few minutes, and make yourself at home till I 
return. I suppose you wish your horse returned to 
town? yes?” Thanking him again, the colonel 
hurried out. 

The parlor in which Stanley found himself was 
a large, airy, richly-furnished apartment, connected 
with a sitting-room by heavy folding-doors, which 
were standing open. 

After noting this, Stanley crossed to a large, 
mullioned window, and was gazing moodily out 
over the valley, when the low notes of an organ 
stole in from the sitting-room. 

He half turned as the familiar prelude stole over 
his hushed spirit, and the next moment was rooted 
to the spot as a rich, sweet voice took up the 
song,— 


10 * 


114 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


“ A hundred months have passed, Lorena, 

Since last I held that hand in mine, 

And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena, 

Tho’ mine beat faster far than thine. 

A hundred months : 'twas flowery May, 

When up the hilly slope we climbed 
To watch the dying of the day 

And hear the distant church-hells chime. 

“We loved each other then, Lorena, 

More than we ever dared to tell ; 

And what we might have been, Lorena, 

Had but our loving prospered well 

But there ! ’tis past, — the years are gone : 

I’ll not call up their shadowy form^; 

I’ll say to them, ‘ Lost years, sleep on. 

Sleep on, nor heed life’s pelting storms.' 

“ It matters little now, Lorena; 

The past — is in the eternal past ; 

Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena, 

Life’s tide is ebbing out so fast. 

There is a future, oh, thank God ! 

Of life this is so small a part ; 

’Tis dust to dust beneath the sod. 

But there, up there, ’tis heart to heart.” 

The voice of the singer gained volume and power 
as the song proceeded, until the rich melody pulsed 
through all the room ; and as Stanley stood, dazed, 
entranced, it seemed that his spirit was caught up 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


115 


and borne on the wings of song back through the 
lapse of years; and there, ah! there he saw a 
shady woodland, felt its breezes upon his cheeks, saw 
a fresh-faced youth stretched upon a mossy bank, 
and heard the voice of another singer. Like a 
blaze of lightning those simple words, If it were 
ever otherwise, I would wish to go there, up there, 
where ’tis heart to heart,’^ darted through his brain, 
and his soul sickened with despair as he realized 
her wish had been granted and that this song was 
but the echo of his own wasted years. 

As he stood with clinched hands and livid lips, 
battling with the fierce tides of awakening recollec- 
tions, a softer prelude began stealing over his fight- 
ing spirit as the same voice, with perhaps a sus- 
picion of tears in the soft tones, commenced the 
following lines : 

“ What tho’ clouds are hovering o’er me, and I seem to walk 
alone, 

Longing ’mid my cares and crosses for the joys that long 
have blown? 

If I’ve Jesus, Jesus only, then my sky will have a gem ; 

He’s a Sun of brightest splendor, and the Star of Bethlehem. 

“ What tho’ all my earthly journey bringeth naught but 
weary hours. 

And in grasping for life’s roses thorns I find instead of 
fiowers ? 


116 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


If I^ve Jesus, Jesus only, I possess a cluster rare ; 

He’s the Lily of the Valley and the Eose of Sharon fair. 

“ What tho’ all my heart is yearning for the loved of long 
ago. 

Bitter lessons sadly learning from the shadowy page of 
woe ? 

If I’ve Jesus, Jesus only. He’ll be with me to the end. 

And unseen by mortal vision angel bands will o’er me 
bend.” 

When embittered and disappointed in early years, 
we impatiently turn from the innocent joys and 
aspirations of our youth, and press onward in the 
paths of sin, crushing every emotion, every remon- 
strance of conscience which ruffles the careless tenor 
of our way, until the past stretches out a weird 
waste of shadowy phantoms and unrealized dreams ; 
but when it seems that we have bidden farewell to 
those fading phantoms forever, something — a look, 
a tone, or a smile — disturbs the silent forms, starting 
them into life, and giving them a local habitation 
and a name;’^ and as they extend their ghost-like 
arms with mournful emphasis towards the hand- 
writing blazing along the walls of our present, we 
discover the worth of that which we have turned 
away, and realize the hollowness of all we have re- 
tained. Thus it proved with Stanley ; and had not 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


117 


those soothing words, If IVe Jesus, Jesus only,” 
been ringing in his heart, the mocking demon 
of his nature would have prompted him to stran- 
gle the rising thoughts with a ruthless hand and 
mutter, ‘ Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin so be it. 
No one will welcome the division of my kingdom 
more heartily than I.” But what sin-sick wretch 
could be deaf to words of such sweet promise? 
And as the soft tones of the singer thrilled through 
his bosom, a mist came before his eyes, a softer look 
stole over his handsome, defiant features, and, turn- 
ing to the window, where he could see the mist 
rolling away from the valley before the rays of the 
approaching sun, he murmured, — 

Almighty Father, Ruler of heaven and earth, 
on every hand I see Thy noble handiwork; and 
while my heart wanders amid Thy grand creations, 
it bows in humbleness before Thine awful throne, 
but resumes its dark rebellings the moment it re- 
enters this embittered bosom. What I am, what is 
to be my destiny, and how I am to serve Thee, I 
know not, for all is darkness here ; but, ah ! I do 
know something whispers now of a fuller life upon 
some brighter sphere ; and if, O my Father, my 
past has not exiled me from Thee, let the shadows 
drift away from my soul, even as the mist from out 


118 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


that vale, and let Thy glory, as a token to me, 
glance but once into this desponding bosom.” Ah ! 
what is it that strikes him to his knees as a look of 
almost unearthly radiance overspreads his upturned 
face? 

So engrossed was he that he failed to hear the 
rustle of silks as a beautiful dark-eyed girl came 
swiftly from the adjoining room and knelt by his 
side. He felt her presence, however ; for, extend- 
ing his hand as she knelt, he gazed a few moments 
longer across the distant mountains, then, turning to 
her, said, — 

‘Ht is gone; but the radiance it has left behind 
will light me home. Ah ! maiden, did your spirit 
never peep into the glorious Beyond ?” 

Then, remembering his surroundings, he rose and 
lifted her from her knees as he asked if she were 
the singer. 

I am,” she answered, as their eyes met in a 
long, rapturous look, and I saw you in a mirror 

which reflects this window when But I hear 

my uncle coming,” she said, hurriedly. I will see 
you later in the day. Compose yourself.” And, 
turning, she passed through the folding-doors of the 
adjoining room. 

Stanley stood looking after her until the parlor 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


119 


door opened, admitting the colonel ; then, collecting 
himself with a strong effort, he listened to the old 
gentleman’s injunctions until the servant came to 
conduct him to his room. 

Descending to the parlor three hours later, Stan- 
ley found three young ladies and two young men 
assembled, waiting the summons to dinner ; and a 
dark flush dyed his face as he discovered in Irene 
Ellswaith the young lady who had knelt by his side 
a few hours before. Controlling himself instantly, 
he returned her courteous greeting, and was pre- 
sented to the other guests in turn. The last one to 
whom he was introduced was a pretty little blonde, 
who seemed determined to make him confess some 
horribly romantic secret concerning his Southern 
brothers. After rattling on a few minutes, she 
dropped her voice into low, confidential tones and 
said, — 

^^Now, Mr. Huntingdon, haven’t you slaves hid 
out down there yet ?” 

^‘Hundreds of them,” Stanley replied, soberly; 
^^but Vice is their master, and they are willing 
bondsmen.” 

^^Oh, but I mean real slaves, — negroes. Now 
confess.” 

^‘Much as I would like to gain importance in 


120 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


your eyes by disclosing some appalling secret,” 
Stanley replied, smiling down into her mischievous 
face, truth compels me to acknowledge that, like 
the mastodon, the genuine slave is no more.” 

How shocking !” she said, with a pretty pout ; 
you are dispelling all my romantic ideas. I never 
think of the South without seeing cypress swamps, 
dark lagoons, and runaway negroes.” 

“Nothing very romantic about those,” he an- 
swered ; “ the swamps and lagoons breed alligators, 
mosquitoes, agues, and other disguised blessings, 
while the sheriff has usurped the office of the mas- 
ter and his dogs ; so ” 

“I won’t hear another word, sir!” she cried, 
putting her little hands over her ears. 

“I dislike to rouse you from even one of your 
pretty illusions,” Stanley continued, rising to escort 
her out to dinner, “but I wish to disabuse your 
mind of the thought that we Southerners live in a 
roseate dream of bliss. It was sufficiently dull 
down there when we could chase a runaway darkey 
occasionally, but since your people have declared 
that to be an unparliamentary amusement it is stupid 
indeed.” 

“Did you ever chase a darkey?” she asked, 
turning to him with beaming eyes. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


121 


Dozens of them; but ’twas away from my 
corn-crib and chicken-roost.” 

“ Hateful ! I won^t speak to you again for a 
week.” 

Seating themselves around the table, the company 
began a lengthened disquisition upon that ever-in- 
teresting subject, the weather; and after discussing 
its past blessings, present prospects, and future con- 
tingencies, they were rapidly drifting upon society 
topics, when Lawrence Hamilton veered clear of 
that dangerous channel by asking Stanley about the 
literature of the South, its taste, progress, etc. 

As he answered this question to the best of his 
ability, and ably bore his share of the conversation 
while both modern and ancient literature passed in 
rapid review, Stanley detected more than one look 
of astonishment proceeding from the old colonel’s 
chair; and it was with difficulty he prevented his 
secret amusement from becoming visible. 

After assisting in completing the hasty survey of 
those vast fields, Stanley turned with some courteous 
remark to his hostess ; and, as he noted the frigid 
smile playing serenely over the proud, haughty 
features, a cold wave trembled along his spine, 
while he bitterly thought of the morrow.” She was 

surprisingly affable to the rich young Southerner, 
11 


122 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


and entertained him with an endless history of the 
accomplishments of numerous members of her set, 
all of which was, of course, excruciatingly interest- 
ing to Stanley. 

When they adjourned to the parlor, Stanley 
sought Irene’s side. She was standing alone by a 
bay-window, looking out over the valley. 

judge that Miss Ellswaith is something of a 
stranger here, from her rapt interest in the sur- 
rounding scenery.” he said, pausing at her side. 

I fear you fail to appreciate its beauties,” she 
answered, turning her dark eyes upon him. 

On the contrary,” he responded, I think the 
man who chose this site possessed the heart and eye 
of a poet. And, standing here looking out over 
that unrivalled scene, I feel as I imagine Mohammed 
felt when he turned his back upon Damascus.” 

You are but echoing my own words,” she said, 
with a rare, sweet smile, and you cannot conceive 
the pleasure it affords me to meet one who sympa- 
thizes with my hobby.” 

^‘The pleasure is mutual, I assure you,” he re- 
sponded ; for I can safely say in all my life I 
have never met more than six persons who would 
not glance casually at the most gorgeous sunset and 
ask why I was not at Mrs. Richlady’s ball or the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


123 


last horse-race, or who, under cover of the grandest 
music, would not ask if I knew that fright of a 
girl or that fussy old gentleman, etc/^ 

‘‘I have often noticed the same,’’ Irene said, 
laughing, but suppose it is nothing more than we 
should expect. I hope,” she continued, these 
scenes will not arouse in you the same regrets which 
fill my bosom at times.” 

The only regret likely to assail me is the thought 
that I cannot live and die here,” he said, with a 
smile. 

That is a regret indeed,” she said, gently ; but 
that to which I alluded is, while wandering among 
these hills I feel as if I would give worlds, were 
they mine to bestow, could I embody into verse the 
ideas which their grandeur suggests.” 

Perhaps you possess the gift without being aware 
of doing so.” 

Alas! no; the enthusiasm is mine, but not the 
ability.” 

The artist who drew that picture,” Stanley said, 
looking at a large drawing above, possessed both 
the ability and the enthusiasm. What could be 
more natural than that wild, rocky gorge, those 
foaming falls and distant cloud-capt peaks? The 
artist seemed to catch the very air and throw it 


124 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


over the scene ; soft and slumberous, like the 
shadowy mantle of an Indian summer.” 

I am glad it pleases you,” she said, with a 
bright smile, for the work is mine ; and some day, 
if you remain here, I will show you the identical 
spot.” 

‘^Thanks! I will be glad to accompany you,” 
Stanley said, a strange smile hovering about his 
lips. Will you pardon me if I say I think Miss 
Ellswaith is a very ambitious young lady indeed ? 
A master-hand with the brush, the queen of song, 
yet sighing for other gifts.” 

The rich color fluttered up into her cheeks at 
this graceful compliment, and their eyes met again. 
What Stanley saw there made the past and the 
future all one to him ; he lived but for the present, 
and that was enough; he saw nothing but the 
proud, beautiful spirit mirrored in the dusky depths 
of her brilliant eyes, and felt nothing but the subtle 
charm of her presence. It was a dangerous hour ; 
but as his pulse began responding to the seductive 
influence, his barren lot leered at him over her 
shoulder, sweeping the sweet sensations from his 
bosom, and filling him with an almost irresistible 
desire to break out into bitter mockery. For- 
tunately, before he could open his lips Colonel 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


125 


Ellswaith called to them, and, turning to him, they 
descended to earth. 

We will not analyze Irene’s feelings as she min- 
gled with the company, listening to Stanley’s gay 
repartee and light laughter. He talked Southern 
fashions with his hostess, defined the South’s busi- 
ness future with his host, upheld its political dogmas 
against Lawrence Hamilton, and talked nonsense to 
the pretty little blonde; but to Irene’s delicately 
attuned ears it seemed that a ring of bitter mockery 
thrilled through his pleasantest words. She caught 
his eye while singing Longfellow’s grand old song, 

The Bridge,” and felt, she knew not why, that his 
spirit was up in arms, that the demon of unrest 
was abroad in his bosom ; and a dull, undefined 
pain began to stir in her own. She sighed with 
relief on gaining the solitude of her chamber, but 
his look as he stood that morning fighting with 
overwhelming memories haunted her still; and as 
her mind vainly conjectured the cause of his emo- 
tion, her heart, all unknown to herself, was casting 
a soft halo about this stranger and placing him 
upon its holiest altar. His soft, faintly mocking 
tones haunted her slumbers, and she knelt again by 
his side in her dreams ; but when she would have 

taken his hand, he turned to her with such a malig- 
11 * 


126 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


nant smile that she shrank away appalled with fear. 
Then, it seemed, she was walking alone upon a 
wild, rocky cliff, with huge billows bellowing 
around its base, while through the driving mist 
and darkness she saw his form towering upon the 
very verge of the giddy height. She sprang for- 
ward and seized his arm as he was casting a farewell 
look on earth and sky, but, turning on her with a 
black scowl that paralyzed her with fear, he broke 
into wild, mocking laughter and sprang to his death. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

We will pass swiftly over the events of the fol- 
lowing day. Colonel Ellswaith drew Irene aside 
when she descended to breakfast, and, informing her 
of Stanley’s position, explained the motives which 
prompted him to introduce Stanley as his guest. 
He finished by saying, I thought he was an un- 
usually handsome and gentlemanly-looking work- 
man, and wished to bring your aunt into unpreju- 
diced contact with him. I never dreamed of his 
being an educated gentleman, or I would not have 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


127 


insulted him with the proposition. But I did so, 
and deserve the contempt which I know caused him 
to cloak his feelings and accede to my request. It 
has accomplished some good, however, for your 
aunt, on learning the truth, agreed to receive him at 
the table. She, of course, in her well-bred way, 
will crucify him on every occasion, but that must be 
borne.’^ 

What that day cost Irene no one ever knew. She 
watched Stanley with painful solicitude when he 
came in to dinner; but when she saw him coolly 
return the nods of their guests, meet her aunt’s 
awful look unabashed, and begin his meal in a purely 
business-like manner, her relief knew no bounds. 
A loving woman is a mysterious anomaly ; she can 
forgive the man of her choice almost any crime, 
and love him the better for his weakness; but let 
him once be the recipient of pity, contempt, or 
ridicule, and the love which would brave the terrors 
of eternity for his sake will fall dead at his feet. 
It is a knowledge of this fact which nerves many an 
unredeemable villain to die grandly. Had Stanley 
appeared confused and made himself ridiculous in 
his awkward position, Irene would have turned from 
him with contempt; but when she saw him rise 
proudly above himself and his surroundings, her 


128 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


spirit acknowledged its master and placed him upon 
a throne which no misfortune could assail. 

After finishing his day’s work, Stanley lighted a 
cigar and wandered ofP over the hills. Discovering 
a narrow path which led southward, he followed 
it, lost in meditation, until an abrupt, crescent-shaped 
ridge barred his further progress. Ascending this, 
he stood admiring the glorious prospect thus afforded. 
The Santa Clara valley, bathed in moonlight, rolled 
off to the east and to the south on his left; the 
silent hills, ranging along the west, towered darkly 
above on his right; while immediately at the base 
of the ridge on which he stood sat a low, rambling 
adobe house embowered in luxuriant foliage, and 
surrounded by vineyards, orchards, and broad roll- 
ing wheat-fields. Watching the lights streaming 
from the windows, and glancing through the inter- 
lacing branches of the trees above, he then slowly 
descended the ridge, and, finding an open gate which 
led into a gravelled drive, wandered aimlessly on, 
admiring the well-kept grounds, until a bend in the 
drive revealed the brilliantly-lighted building. He 
heard footsteps approaching from a side-path, and 
paused as three men, issuing from the dark ave- 
nue, stood before him in the bright moonlight. He 
merely glanced at the two whose features and dress 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


129 


proclaimed them Mexican menials ; but his eyes 
became riveted upon the stately form of the third. 
This was a man more than sixty years of age, but 
whose splendidly-proportioned form, as he stood with 
a rich Spanish cloak hanging carelessly from his 
massive shoulders, looked the very perfection of 
vigorous manhoood. His long, luxuriant, dead- 
white hair formed a strange contrast to the heavy, 
iron-gray moustache and dark, rugged features; 
while the bold, restless black eyes, raying out a 
baleful light as they scanned Stanley from head to 
foot, completed the incongruous picture. 

What brought you here, sir he said, a dark 
scowl lowering his brows as he addressed Stanley. 

‘^Idleness,” Stanley answered, courteously. 
was standing on that ridge, and the beauty of your 
grounds tempted me hither.’’ 

^^Who are you?” 

“A gentleman,” Stanley responded, laconically, 
irritated by the brusque questions. 

“ A gentleman, eh ?” the other repeated, fiercely. 

Well, Mr. Gentleman, know that you stand before 
a man who hates the very sight of your accursed 
race, and who advises you, if you wish to bear a 
whole carcass hence, to hasten your departure.” 

I will leave your premises,” Stanley said, paling 


130 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


with wrath, not that I fear your threat, but to rid 
myself of such an unmannerly cur.” 

The other seemed to be choking with rage and 
astonishment at this unexpected answer; but as 
Stanley was turning slowly away he broke into a 
loud roar of laughter, and said, — 

Stop, young man ; by the blood of the Blessed 
Mary, I relish your pluck. Who the seven devils 
are you?” 

My name is Huntingdon,” Stanley said, pausing. 

What !” the old man exclaimed, a look of sur- 
prise sweeping the habitual scowl from his face. 

Ah ! I see the likeness now, and should have 
known at first that no one but the son of Lewis 
Huntingdon would dare to answer me thus.” 

“Did you know my father?” Stanley asked, 
looking at him in surprise. 

“ Ay ! and he is the only one of your reptile 
race who ought not to be steaming in sheoPs hottest 
caldron at this moment. Where are you stopping 
now ?” 

“ I am working for Colonel Ellswaith.” 

“ Indeed ! And how long since the Huntingdons 
condescended to work ? But let that pass,” he con- 
tinued, seeing Stanley’s brow darken at the jeering 
question. “ When you return, Colonel Ellswaith 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


131 


will inform you that I am a Spaniard of a not 
very odorous reputation, and if he is fond of his 
workman he will advise you to give my house a 
wide berth ; but if you will discard all fear and 
claim my hospitality, I promise you, — ha, ha ! — on 
the honor of a Spanish gentleman, that I will not 
have you assassinated.” 

I can trust my precious life in your keeping,” 
Stanley answered, a bitter sneer curling his lips, 
as you could not render me a greater service than 
to rid me of it.” 

A gentler look softened the harsh features of the 
old man as he looked into the handsome, reckless 
face of the younger, but, turning away, he said, 
brusquely, — 

Well, restrain your curiosity and questions un- 
til day after to-morrow night; then walk over here, 
and I will see how near you have followed the steps 
of your father.” 

Leaving Stanley standing in the road, the old 
man strode off to the house, followed by his two 
servants. 


132 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


CHAPTEE XV. 

The night subsequent to the events narrated in 
the preceding chapter, Stanley lighted a cigar and, 
seating himself upon the upper veranda of Colonel 
Ellswaith’s house, began meditating over his ad- 
venture with the Spaniard; but ere his cigar was 
half consumed he was disturbed by approaching 
footsteps. Turning, he saw Irene Ellswaith and 
Lawrence Hamilton coming through the hall, and 
thinking they, perhaps, were seeking a private 
retreat, he was rising to vacate the spot, when 
Lawrence said, — 

“ Keep your seat, Mr. Huntingdon ; we came up 
specially to talk with you.” 

Seating themselves in arm-chairs facing Stanley, 
Lawrence then said, I hope you will excuse this 
intrusion, and pardon us if we seem impertinent; 
but, not having had an opportunity lately to con- 
verse with a gentleman recently from the South, we 
have come trusting that you will satisfy a long- 
gnawing curiosity about several questions pertaining 
to that district.” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


133 


Though sadly deficient in knowledge concerning 
both my country and people/’ Stanley said, courte- 
ously, I will yet cheerfully impart what little I 
do possess.” 

“ Then,” Lawrence said, with a bow and smile, 
I would like, first of all, to hear your ideas con- 
cerning secession.” 

Seeing Stanley frown with annoyance at the ques- 
tion, Irene said, ^‘Time, place, and circumstances 
favor philosophical discussion; the air is balmy, the 
moon unrolls charming pictures at our feet, and 
I grant to you gentlemen the privilege of smok- 
ing cigars ad libitum; so, suppose we imagine our- 
selves Roman triumvirs regulating the dynasties of 
earth ?” 

“ In that case we must exchange pledges of good 
faith,” Stanley answered, with a smile. 

True,” Irene responded ; and instead of yield- 
ing brothers and uncles as sacrificial hostages, we 
will each crucify his self-love on the altar of Gen- 
eral Good; thus allowing each to unbosom his 
darkest passions without fear of consequences. 
You, Mr. Huntingdon, are Mark Antony; please 
take the floor.” 

Then, beloved colleagues, and co-sharers of my 

kingdom, I will answer the question propounded 
12 


134 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


by saying, did I intimate the South was wrong to 
secede you would dub me a hypocrite, and did I 
say she was right you would damn me as a traitor ; 
so we will waive the question altogether. I am 
fully aware of the fact that you wish to hear of the 
South generally, and the negro particularly; and 
as I have been granted free speech, I will avail 
myself of the generous privilege to speak what is 
seldom heard, the truth, allowing you, of course, 
to pass as many strictures upon it as you please. 
Argument is a dangerous thing, as I have learned 
by sad experience. While living among my own 
people I was rather noted for the laxity of my 
brotherly love; but since forced to defend my 
brothers so often and so strenuously in this State, 
I have conceived a violent passion for them, and am 
thrice the rebel now that I was twelve months ago. 
Bearing in mind, then, that I am in love, and that 
love is blind, and remembering that you two, like 
the majority of your people, are so badly bitten by 
negropholism that it would require a mad-stone 
larger than this round earth to extract the poison, 
the questions naturally occur to my mind, ‘ Why 
harrow one another’s souls with mutual recrimina- 
tions ? Why strengthen one another in strongholds 
of blindness and absurdity by closing the gates and 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


135 


mounting the cannons with wordy warfare, when if 
peace were allowed to brood over the forts the gates 
would hang carelessly ajar, and thus allow meek- 
eyed Truth the opportunity of sneaking in unob- 
served? Look at the matter thus: you two have 
travelled through the South, you say. Did you not 
make the journey as did Grimes through Palestine, 
bearing in lieu of Grimes’s pistol ^ Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin’ in one hand and a handkerchief in the other? 
‘ Perhaps so?’ Well, then you saw matters in their 
proper colors, doubtless ; and now you meet with 
one who is saturated with race prejudices, blinded 
by mistaken patriotism, and, of course, foolish 
enough to disagree with you; so, why waste pre- 
cious moments waging fruitless warfare? However, 
I will not allow you the opportunity, but will 
make a few conjectures, and let Miss Ellswaith as- 
cend the rostrum. 

In the first place, I wonder if there lives a 
metaphysician sufficiently profound or astute to 
explore the Caucasian mind and discover the source 
from whence this sentimental spoondrift of negro- 
pholism so persistently exhales ; and why the afore- 
said spoondrift prefers black to any other color. If 
so, and he will make himself known, I will speak to 
him in the beautiful language of Euth. For, until 


136 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


I am enlightened on that head, the horrible sus- 
picion will haunt my mind that Noah missed the 
combination and gave to Canaan a blessing instead 
of a curse. 

^^In the next place, I wonder if the Northern 
gentlemen, who appeared so wonderfully surprised 
because they were whipped and hanged for endeav- 
oring, before the war, to overturn the South’s 
^sacred’ institutions, ever dreamed that the men 
who whipped and hanged them were as yet unedu- 
cated in abolition sentiment, and looked upon them 
as extraordinary ^ cranks’ whom all sober citizens 
should endeavor to annihilate. 

^^And again, I wonder, if John Brown walked 
with God (as an eminent divine asserts), if God did 
not get into some decidedly queer paths during the 
aforesaid Brown’s carnival of blood and theft in 
Kansas and elsewhere. 

also wonder if the people will ever realize 
that when our purses and lives are in jeopardy, 
we turn Samsons, steal Diogenes’s shoes, and, in 
lieu of more profitable sport, trot ofiP with Gaza’s 
gates hanging about our foolish necks ; and I won- 
der had New England been in the shoes of the 
South, would she, the land of boasted free speech, 
have sustained her reputation. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


137 


wonder if any philosopher will ever linger 
around the tombs of Socrates and our Saviour, 
analyze the conflicting causes that hurried them to 
their death, and then turn the light thus gained 
upon his patriotic contemporaries. 

I wonder if the Et. Eev. T. U. Dudley under- 
stands human nature, and realizes that no one but 
his God can persist in striving with those who con- 
tinue to turn away with blasphemy and rebellion, — 
if so, I wonder why he wrote ^ How shall we Help 
the Negro ?^* 

I wonder if he realizes that the South has taxed 
her poverty to educate the negro; opened every 
avenue to wealth, and bidden him ^God-speed’ on 
his journey, while she reserves the right to give that 
^ patient, gentle, loving, individual aid’ to the multi- 
plied, benighted, and suffering loved ones of her 
own flesh and blood, in whose bosoms lurk the 
glorious germs of Clays, Calhouns, and Augusta 
Evans. 

I wonder if he realized how odd that negro 
appeal for manly recognition sounded at the close 
of his dark picture of their loathsome degradation. 
I wonder if he did not fear some one would reply 


Century Magazine^ June, 1885. 
12 * 


138 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


by informing the negro that, when he revarnished 
some of that ‘grotesque ugliness^ which his moral 
biographer so graphically portrayed, we could look 
at him without making wry faces; that, when he 
made himself a man, we would regard him as such ; 
that, if he could not do so without our aid, he must 
confess his weakness and meet us half-way. 

“ I wonder if that sage proverb, ‘ The negro was 
degraded by slavery,’ will not melt before Mr. 
Cable’s, ‘He was brought to our shores a naked, 
unclean, brutish, pagan savage.’* (I tell you slavery 
would have had to get up before day to sink him 
lower than that.) 

“ I wonder what Mr. Cable means by this, ‘ Ex- 
amine it! It (the law) proffers the Freedman a 
certain security of life and property, and then holds 
the respect of the community, that dearest of all 
earthly boons, beyond his attainment. It gives 
him certain guarantees against thieves and robbers, 
and then holds him under the unearned contumely 
of the mass of good men and women,’ I wonder 
what laws have to do with the respect of a com- 
munity, or how constitutions can control the con- 
tumely of good men and women. 


Century Magazine^ January, 1885. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


139 


I wonder if Mr. Cable knows that a virtuous 
and intelligent negro holds the respect of his white 
acquaintances ; but that, on going abroad, strangers 
recognize in him nothing save his being a member 
of an ignorant and lascivious race; and I wonder 
if he could discover an explanation for this, by- 
watching his lady acquaintances draw aside their 
skirts on meeting an unfortunate sister, even extend- 
ing their contumely to the female members of her 
family, how pure and virtuous soever they may be. 

“ I wonder if he did not smile in his sleeve while 
penning that beautifully poetic but intensely base- 
less soliloquy over the Birmingham, Alabama, iron- 
workers.* 

“I wonder why John Bull, while contentedly 
sitting down on Paddy and Tippo Sahib, yearned so 
tenderly over the American slave. 

And I wonder if the South will have a respite 
when the mutteriugs of hungry millions assail the 
sentimentalists of the North ; and I wonder if the 
negro won’t fare about as well during that respite 
as now. 

“And I wonder what you two think of this 
bundle of wonders.” 


Century Magazine^ September, 1885. 


140 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


Barring five-fifths of it” Irene said, laughing, 
“ the remainder is subtle, far-reaching, magnificent, 
and sublime.’^ 

And I think,’^ Lawrence added, to disrobe it 
of rhetoric and ill nature, there would be but one 
idea left, and that one could not stand alone long 
enough to condemn itself/’ 

This is refreshing,” Stanley said, laughing. 

What a lovely world this would be if we were 
always equally as candid ! You spoke of philo- 
sophic discussion just now,” he continued, lighting 
a cigar and turning to Irene. ‘‘You behold in 
me an unsettled humanitarian philosopher. I have 
looked the masses of mankind up one side and 
down the other, and, candidly, I don’t know what 
to do with them. To get them to see alike is im- 
possible; and to expect them to attain simon-pure 
contentment is out of the question. So, to a phi- 
lanthropist, who wishes to see them permanently 
established upon moral and financial rising ground, 
it is discouraging and tantalizing to witness their 
ceaseless rising and falling along the scale of hu- 
manity. History abundantly proves they can be 
ground down until they will lick the feet of their 
oppressors, and be thankful they are allowed to live; 
or they can be pampered until they would be dissat- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


141 


isfied did their masters become their slaves; that 
small favors are great blessings, while great ones are 
unknown; that great favors are small blessings 
when small ones are unknown ; in other words, 
did we reverse the natural order of things and ele- 
vate the bottom rail to the top, we would but widen 
the sphere of its discontent ; so the question which 
naturally presents itself is, why not sink them low 
as decency will allow and let a few philosophers, 
like myself, for instance, run matters here alto- 
gether ?” 

That is the most sublimely heartless course of 
reasoning it has ever been my good fortune to hear,” 
Irene replied, “and every way worthy the feudal 
ages from whence you drew it. But, Mr. Hunting- 
don,” she continued, looking curiously at Stanley, 
“ you are such a strange man that it is hard to de- 
cide when you are sneering, jeering, or talking so- 
berly ; and I, for one, would like to hear you speak 
out honestly and earnestly, just for a change, if for 
nothing else.” 

“ To speak plainly and soberly is like requesting 
the enemy to inspect the strength of your forts,” 
Stanley replied, with a smile. “ I acknowledge,” he 
continued, “ that, while watching the cradle rocking 
by the grave, and tracing the stupendous follies we 


142 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


manage to commit during our lightning-like transit 
from the one to the other ; that, while watching the 
alternate slumberings of the lamb and the tiger in 
our bosoms; that, in following the slow and painful 
ascent of some nation to a proud eminence, only to 
watch it roll to oblivion down the opposite side; 
that, on realizing the instability of earthly affairs 
by witnessing this vast and bewildering mental, 
moral, and religious cotillion of ours, — I acknowl- 
edge, I say, my proneness to turn away with a pain 
in my heart and a jeer on my lips. 

There are, however, some few rays that prevent 
the lone occupant of Pandora’s box from despairing 
altogether. The Printing-Press, the savior of our 
present and the guardian angel of our future, over- 
shadows the world with a hope. The churches may 
wax ambitious, politics become hopelessly corrupt, 
labor leagues forget their missions, and out of the 
hideous pandemonium thus ordained another Au- 
gustus or Gregory may threaten this fair realm with 
the curse of his presence; but the applauding 
senates will be silenced, the victorious legions melt 
from his side, and he will fly in ignominious dis- 
grace before the roar of a united nation as those 
subtile aruspices, our editors, remembering their 
high calling, plunge their hands into the bowels of 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


143 


the past and, drawing forth the dread auguries, turn 
them upon a gazing people. 

The iron age is no more, the requiem has been 
sung above the prostrate fanatic and stupidly-super- 
stitious bigot, the blazing libraries of Alexandria 
can no longer intimidate us, and, cradled between 
her protecting seas, Columbia, queen of nations, 
rising, phoenix-like, again and again from the de- 
bris of her own mistakes, will lead an admiring 
world to that summit of excellence where man, 
striking hands with the bending angels, can join in 
the grand and universal psean, which, swelling from 
centre to circumference of this trembling earth, will 
roll up through the ether, startling distant worlds 
with, ^The victory is gained. God ever blest.’ 
My country ! who, while viewing the lofty, liberal 
intellects dominating thy fair realm, can close his 
eyes upon the grand histories and Iliads destined to 
supply future ages with light, strength, and wisdom ? 
Who, while noting the innate nobility of thy sous 
and the purity of thy daughters, can resist the im- 
pulse of rising on the wings of prophecy, when 
attempting to portray thy glorious and all-conquer- 
ing future?” 

Thus had Stanley rambled on for an hour, ably 
convincing his hearers that his mind refused a 


144 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


steady, honest belief in anything ; that something in 
the past had turned his own hopes and aspirations 
to Dead Sea apples on his lips, and thus colored all 
his conclusions concerning the vast problems which 
he studied ; that his mind had become so hopelessly 
poisoned while studying the follies and mistakes of 
the world’s past, that it was incapable of enjoying 
a healthy hope concerning its future ; but when his 
cheeks flushed and his tones thrilled with emotion 
as he spoke of his country’s coming grandeur, Irene 
recognized his position, and holding out her hand as 
he concluded, she said, — 

I thank you, Mr. Huntingdon, for speaking as 
you did. I realize now that intellect is the only 
shrine at which you Avorship ; and, as you find those 
shrines so few and far between, and see their oracles 
heedlessly neglected by the masses, you are thinking 
of throwing the whole world over with contempt. 
I had almost given you up while listening to you 
dash the most serious questions with burlesque ; but 
now, since discovering you are the blindest fanatic 
of all in your own peculiar line, I entertain some 
hope for you. I know you think the intelligence 
of the North, and of the world, has wronged and 
is wronging the conscience and intelligence of the 
South, and pride in and reverence for this wide- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


145 


spread republic is all that hushes your murmurings. 
Why, my dear sir, you are blinder than the very 
masses at which you so mercilessly sneer. Because, 
forsooth ! the masses think no good can come out of 
Nazareth, and hold all manner of absurd opinions 
concerning your countrymen, you, the boasted phi- 
losopher, must quiver with indignation at their in- 
justice. Why, sir, could there have been a war had 
not the people been educated up to those beliefs; 
and once educated, is it in the nature of things for 
one generation to discover its errors? I wonder a 
metaphysician like yourself had not realized this. 
What matters it if Bryant and other fourth-rate 
partisan historians prattle on about their views of 
the questions ? Will not their works in a century 
from now be as unknown as are the fates of their 
authors in that undiscovered bourne? and will not 
Bancroft and other noble historians give to succeed- 
ing ages a true version of that unhappy affair ? Re- 
member, I am far from holding the South blame- 
less, either in the actions which led up to secession 
or in its present treatment of the negro, and even 
think a little injustice will be healthy for them. I 
see you smile ; but if you will glance into that oft- 
quoted past of yours, you will discover man is in- 
variably unjust until he feels the lash upon his own 
13 


146 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


shoulders; so perhaps your philosophers, in tracing 
up the source from which the present injustice meted 
out to them is flowing, will discover the spot from 
whence springs their injustice towards the negro. 

can give you a more definite idea concerning 
my thoughts of your bundle of wonders, as you 
called it, by naming it brutal, she continued, with 
a smile ; “ but in consideration of your glowing 
eulogy upon our common country, and of the belief 
that your heart is in the right place, much as your 
words belie it, I will pass no more strictures upon a 
course of reasoning which would shame Jezebel 
and ^ero were they Siamese twins.” 

“ How pleasant and forcible are the words of 
unadulterated conviction !” Stanley said, with a 
slight grimace, as he turned to hear Lawrence’s 
criticism. 

read somewhere the other day,” Lawrence 
said, throwing away his cigar, ^‘that the line di- 
viding wisdom from folly is so indefinite, that we 
frequently discover the fool and the philosopher 
working each other’s claims ; and when you began, 
it was difficult for me to decide whether you were a 
philosopher working the fool’s claim or vice vet'sa, 
I even concluded, during one stage of your declama- 
tion, that you were the fool working a home claim ; 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


147 


but as you proceeded the sentence was mitigated. 
My dear sir, you are Mark Anthony over again ; as 
he threw away the world for Cleopatra’s eyes, so 
will you ignore common sense and reason, which 
you undoubtedly possess, to coquette with an ab- 
surdity. Your lordly contempt for the world and 
its follies is extremely amusing; but as you are 
young yet, and I think Miss Ellswaith’s answer 
was enough hot shot for one night, I will leave you 
in peace to grow wiser, to learn this jolly world is 
several years old, and has ambled on very amiably 
so far without your guidance. You may not believe 
it, sir, but I assure you, in all soberness, that if you 
were gathered to the skies this night, the earth would 
not miss the path in which it promenades around 
the sun because of the tears in its eyes, nor lose its 
grip on the axis while reaching for its pocket-hand- 
kerchief.” 

Sir, my brain reels beneath the weight of your 
wisdom, and my heart sings at your joyful assur- 
ance,” Stanley responded. ^‘For you, sir, I have 
nothing but thanks; but I wish to remind Miss Ells- 
waith of her charge of brutality against me, and ask 
her to supply a name for the reasoning which requires 
us to hold our hands and sigh, ^ It will be all one 
a hundred years hence.’ She made it very promi- 


148 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


nent that acknowledging her people are heaping 
injustice upon mine, it amounted to nothing in the 
long run. It is true 'oh, subtle sophist, that those 
poor, narrow-minded partisans will slumber ere long 
beneath the daisies, shrouded in the robes of ob- 
livion ; but, alas ! will not many of their victims 
share the same fate ? But, as you understand my 
meaning, let that pass. The points which I have 
endeavored to make prominent and which you both 
have failed to perceive, are these : 

First. Arguments are such dangerous tools, 
’prentice boys should beware of them. 

“ Second. When a self-assured mechanic chooses 
an instrument with which to bore his employer, the 
reader, he should at least select the auger of practi- 
cal sense. By the way, I am stricken with the fear 
that the right reverend gentleman to whom I 
alluded forgot to do so. 

“Third. The sentimentalist’s lachrymatory, the 
negro, is drowned in the dithyrambic cataclysm 
of purling tears with which the Bachels of Hama 
persist in deluging it, and if we must spend our 
tears, let us seek an urn not so assiduously pat- 
ronized. 

“ Fourth. As I hear the rumble of progress and 
common sense in the distance, my heart sinks with 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


149 


the fear of beholding those gentle-hearted creatures 
(the Eachels) trundled over with such a weight that 
sackcloth, ashes, sentiment, and anatomy will be 
undistinguishably blended. 

Now, if the liquid Niobes of the North would 
dry their tears long enough to allow reason a show, 
while reading the first chapter of Dred, by Mrs. H. 
B. Stowe, they would finish that chapter, and dis- 
solve again into tears ; but it would be in pity for 
their own and the writer’s inexplicable, folly. The 
book begins with a Southern heiress sitting in her 
parlor confessing all her love adventures to a 
quadroon overseer (!). And, later on, the afore- 
said overseer lips her fingers, while her lover, a 
South Carolina gentleman, looks on with the utmost 
complaisance. Yet that book has, thrown a corus- 
cating halo of reverence about the minds of multi- 
plied thousands. O men, where are thy brains ? O 
learning, where is thy victory ? 

Miss Ellswaith and Mr. Hamilton, I have con- 
versed a vast deal with Californians about the 
negro ; in fact, I gave three months of my valua- 
ble time towards sounding the hearts of your peo- 
ple. And I must confess, of all the hundreds with 
whom I have conversed, you two alone are remiss 

in your duties. You have accused the South of 
13 * 


150 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


nothing but injustice towards this romancer’s Eu- 
reka ; and, candidly, I stand aghast at your heresy ! 
But let me say this in defence of even your lone ac- 
cusation : John Chinaman is in your midst, quiet, 
sober, industrious, and equally as pretty as the Af- 
rican ; yet two- thirds of your people love their 
Bible better than they do Johnny. Why is it 
you invariably give Johnny your blessing when 
speaking to him, and frequently accompany it with 
a brickbat ? So, when you explain the causes that 
prompt these actions and feelings, you will under- 
stand the only injustice which the Southerners mete 
out to the blacks. The survival of the fittest is an 
unwritten law, more irrevocable than that of the 
Medes and Persians, as is the world-wide instinct 
that makes a Dives more interesting to us than a 
Lazarus, or a philosopher more respected than a 
fool. Then, recognizing this, take to your meta- 
physics ; rail on all humanity ; but reserve your cen- 
sure of the weakened South while she is grappling 
with the grim problem that lies at her door. 

I hope,” he continued, as they rose to separate, 
that you will not imagine I have treated the sub- 
ject flippantly. I feel more serious, perhaps, than 
my words would indicate. The rural districts of 
the South are rapidly changing in outward circum- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


151 


stances by the negroes withdrawing to large plan- 
tations and along the bottoms, while the whites 
congregate in neighborhoods to themselves. This, 
however, only complicates matters, and whether or 
not, when these colonies become denser and more 
strongly marked, there will be any Sabine enterprises 
among us I will leave for time to decide. 

‘‘George Cable understands this problem better 
than any one North or South, and could, perhaps, 
come nearer giving both parties justice than any 
man in either place; but even he fails to grasp its 
full import ; and as the North lauds, and the South 
abuses, and the negro applauds, and his own con- 
science approves or condemns, he will become less 
and less fitted for umpire. It is a difficult under- 
taking for human nature to preserve its equilibrium 
under such a pressure of circumstances. When his 
beautiful and vividly-poetic imagination becomes 
inflamed by praise or embittered by abuse, and, 
perchance, injustice, he will commit himself more 
decidedly to one party or the other : then woe to 
us Sadducees, Pharisees, — that is. Southerners and 
negroes. 

“ Good-night, and pleasant dreams.’’ 


152 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


CHAPTER Xyi. 

The following day, despite hard work and in- 
numerable cigars, seemed interminably long to 
Stanley. He thought of his coming interview with 
the Spaniard, of Raines and his fellow-workmen, 
and of his distant home ; but, through it all, the con- 
versation of the previous night haunted him still. 
The graceful figure of a lovely woman, whose dark, 
lustrous eyes smiling at his whimsical speeches, and 
sparkling when he struck some loftier strain, per- 
sistently hovered before him, recalling to his mind 
the beautiful words of that matchless poet, — 

“ She looked as if she sat by Eden’s door, 

And grieved for those who could return no more.” 

‘‘Bah !’’ he said, stamping his foot with vexation, 
after searching for the smoothing plane which was 
lying directly under his nose, and attempting to 
saw a board with the steel square, “ if this disease 
continues, farewell to this job and these superb hills. 
Cursed be the cause that brought me here to play 
the fool ! Oh, exquisite irony of fate ! was my life 
so peculiarly blessed, my shoulders so free from bur- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


153 


dens, that I needed this hopeless passion as alloy in 
the golden structure of my dreams? Verily, the little 
god is not only blind, but also, I fear, an arrant 
fool.” 

His soliloquy was disturbed at this juncture by a 
servant handing him a note. Opening it, he read, — 

Me. Huntingdon, — Please come to the sitting- 
room, I wish particularly to speak with you. 

^‘Ieene Ellswaith.” 

Destroying the pencilled lines and drawing on 
his coat, he entered the house, and found Irene ner- 
vously fingering the keys of the organ. As he came 
forward she rose and said, — 

^^The family has gone to M to spend the 

afternoon with friends, and, as I wished to have a 
private talk with you, I pleaded headache and re- 
mained at home.” 

I am at your service,” he said, bowing and tak- 
ing the seat she offered. 

wish, Mr. Huntingdon, to speak of your- 
self,” she said, in a hesitating tone, as the rich color 
fluttered up into her cheeks. 

‘‘Self is a pleasant subject to every one except a 
philosopher,” he answered, pleasantly 

“In that case,” she replied, smiling, “I hope 


154 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


you will forget that you are a philosopher, and tell 
me why a man of your brilliant talents is frittering 
away his time at carpentry/^ 

^^The question is easily answered,” Stanley re- 
sponded, carelessly. Men of talent need bread and 
meat the same as simple mortals. I came West 
thinking I could secure a lucrative position before 
my bank account turned traitor, and the failure to 
do so left me the choice of my present occupation 
or starvation.” 

Would you object to resigning this work and 
returning to the city?” she asked, timidly. 

Certainly not, if you wish me to,” he said, with 
a bow; “but if I have gained Miss Ellswaith’s ill 

will I regret it exceedingly ; and ” 

“ You misunderstand me,” she interrupted, hastily. 
“ I have friends in the city who can help you to a 
position worthy your attainments.” 

“ I will relinquish this work the moment Colonel 
Ellswaith can secure a workman to fill my place,” 
he said, slowly; “but as to accepting aid at Miss 
Ellswaith’s hands, please excuse me.” 

“Will you give me your reasons for refusing?” 
she asked, in a disappointed tone. 

“There are more than one,” he replied, concealing 
his annoyance. “ It is difficult to digest any patron; 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


155 


but when that patron is a young lady — well 

Believe me, Miss Ellswaith, I appreciate your kind- 
ness, but what you wish is impossible/^ 

‘‘ I have spoken with my uncle about this,” she 
said, flushing with impatience and confusion. ‘‘ He 
proposes to assist you when this work is completed ; 
but I cannot bear to see you occupying a menial 
position five or six weeks longer.” 

As Stanley listened to her nervous words and 
watched her convulsively-working fingers, like a 
blaze of light her secret reasons for this Quixotic 
proceeding were revealed to him ; but crushing down 
the wild thoughts that darted through his brain, he 
picked up his hat and said, quietly, — 

I fear Miss Ellswaith’s sympathy overestimates 
my ability. I have never studied business of any 
kind, and would compromise my patron ; so, leave 
me in peace to occupy the only position I am capa- 
ble of filling. As you so truthfully taught last 
night,” he continued, with a bitter smile, ^ it will 
be all the same a hundred years hence.^ What does 
it matter whether death finds me at a workman’s 
bench or in a banker’s chair ? Come it will, and 
oblivion will clothe the one fully as comfortably as 
the other.” 

I would retort that is sorry philosophy in this 


156 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


instance/’ she said, looking earnestly at him, did 
I not suspect the feelings that prompt it. While 
looking at your scowling features now,” she contin- 
tinued, in a soft voice, “ a radiant face, bowed at 
that window, rises before me.” 

He started as if she had slapped him in the face, 
and, coloring with anger, said, sharply, — 

I hoped Miss Ellswaith had forgotten that 
scene ; or, at least, would respect what was not 
intended for her eyes.” 

Please pardon the allusion,” she said, in a pained 
voice, ‘^as, believe me, it was only an overmaster- 
ing interest in you, and what concerns you, that 
prompted it. Is it strange that all my sympathies 
are stirred while watching a highly-gifted man 
struggling under cruel misfortune, and against 
some memory which seems to have embittered his 
whole life.” 

Stanley could bear no more, and, starting to his 
feet, said, in a voice thrilling with emotion, “ Miss 
Ellswaith, you have laid obligations upon a man 
who never forgets ; and my one gentle thought in 
the future will be of the unparalleled kindness you 
have shown to me, a lowly workman. Seek no 
further to unveil my past; it has been one of un- 
mitigated folly, the revealment of which would pain 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


157 


US both ; so let the thickly-crowding years trample 
it into oblivion. While standing by that window, 
with your matchless tones thrilling through my 
bosom, feelings which I thought were lost to me 
forever cheered my desponding soul with their ra- 
diance ; but that radiance has since been obliterated 
by the soot from the dark devil which holds high 
carnival in my bosom, and the only consolation 
granted me is the knowledge that I am, at least, 
none the worse from the experience. My life has 
been a mistake, and it is too late now to remedy it ; 
but as I journey on to my grave, looking back over 
a wilderness of sin and folly, there will be a few 
passages in my life around which my mind will 
love to dwell. One such is my acquaintance with 
you.” Checking the torrent of his speech, he said. 
Allow me to thank you again for your courtesy 
and kindness. I will return to the city in three 
days.” 

“ You will do nothing of the kind,” Irene said, 
rising and coming close up to him. If you can- 
not accept my offer, you can, at least, remain here 
until my uncle makes a similar one ; so promise me 
you will forget my request and continue as you 
began.” 

As Stanley gazed down into the dark, lustrous 
14 


158 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


eyes raised anxiously to his, he seemed to become 
intoxicated with the magnetism of her presence ; hLs 
brain reeled, and his veins fairly ached as the hot 
blood rolled and quivered through his frame; but, 
while looking into that lovely face, which was the 
world and all to him, he felt his self-control desert- 
ing him, and turning aside with lowering brow, ex- 
claimed, harshly, “ I cannot ! I must return. It is 
best that I should.’^ 

Irene shrank away, frightened at his fierce tones 
and dark scowl ; but as she watched him walk 
blindly out of the door, a soft, glad smile trembled 
around her lips. 

Be still, oh, beating heart!’’ she murmured, 
clasping her hands in ecstasy, he loves me ! what 
matters the rest? And ah! my wayward king, 
proud as thou art, thou shalt yet win me and wear 
me. Sweet Heaven, how thou dost shower blessings 
upon my unworthy head !” And seating herself at 
the organ, with humid eyes, her full soul found vent 
in a grand burst of thanksgiving to Him who had 
thus blessed her life. 

Ah ! what a painful contrast was this to the man 
who, with white, set face was leaning against his 
work-bench, handling himself with ungloved hands! 
The very pain made him the more brutal to his 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


159 


feelings, and it was pitiful to witness his writhing 
lips and quivering hands as he jeered at the rebel- 
lious pain in his bosom and heaped maledictions 
upon his folly. 

Men are applauded and admired for coolly facing 
death in battle ranks, where there is much to sus- 
tain them ; but such heroism pales before the act of 
one who, standing as Stanley stood, looks back upon 
a past wrecked by his own blind folly, and then 
firmly faces a future more desolate still. It is well 
for man that he is forbidden to enter eternity until 
God beckons him hither, or how many would hasten 
after the loved ones gone before; how many, be- 
coming surfeited with the pain and monotony of 
this existence, would grow over-curious concerning 
the mysteries of that other ; how many a despairing 
wretch at this hour would avail himself of that easy 
escape from the consequences of his own misdeeds. 
Many do so as it is, but raise the ban, and in twelve 
months stand aghast at the roll-call of one more 
unfortunate.” 

The very intensity of Stanley’s passion soon ex- 
hausted itself, and as it subsided, allowing calmer 
thought to assume control, a softer look stole over 
his features. 

Thank God !” he thought, “ this comes from no 


160 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


unworthy act of hers. Did it do so, I hardly think 
I could face Heaven with good faith, which is the 
only hope left me now. Poor Blondine, if you felt 
as I feel, may God pity you. If the memory of 
two such angels cannot guide me home, earth holds 
nothing that can. Ah, God ! lift me up, make me 
worthy to meet them in Thy kingdom, and I will 
ask no more.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Stanley informed Colonel Ellswaith, at the din- 
ner-table, of his intention to return to the city, and, 
after finishing the meal, lighted a cigar, and striking 
into the trail leading southward, soon found himself 
at the Spaniard's door. He was surprised at the 
immense size of the smoothly-stuccoed building; for, 
though it was only a story and a half in height, it 
rambled around with large, airy rooms, long, wide 
halls and open courts, over more than two acres of 
ground. The touch of modern hands had softened 
and beautified the originally gloomy pile. The 
stucco, covering the sun-dried brick walls, was hard- 
ened and polished till it shone like glass; the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


161 


original tile roofing had given place to slate, while 
open balconies, and wide, breezy verandas graced 
the whole. On entering, he was dazzled by the rich 
furniture and costly ornaments scattered in lavish 
profusion on every hand ; and following the servant 
through rooms carpeted with magnificent Brussels, 
and whose walls were hung with heavy, gold-fringed 
tapestry, and decorated by the pencil and chisel of 
masters, he was ushered into what seemed half 
library, half sitting-room. 

Upon a velvet-cushioned lounge, and arrayed in 
rich vestments that displayed his superb figure to 
the best advantage, reclined the Spaniard. Shading 
his eyes from the brilliant light raying from the 
heavy, gold-chased candelabra, he turned as the door 
swung open, and seeing Stanley, rose and welcomed 
him to his house. 

You are punctual, I see,” he said, in his harsh, 
strong voice, which is one of the few things I 
admire.” 

I always endeavor to be prompt,” Stanley 
responded, seating himself in the arm-chair which 
his host offered him. 

As the Spaniard threw himself carelessly upon 
the lounge facing Stanley, a door upon his left 

swung in, admitting a middle-aged female servant. 

14 * 


162 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


She bore a large waiter in her hands, which was 
covered with glasses, bottles, fruit, and cigar-boxes, 
and as she placed it upon a small stand her master 
said, briefly, — 

‘^Bid your mistress hither.” 

As they were pledging each other in a deep 
draught of the rich native wine, the door opened 
again, admitting a young girl with sloe-black eyes, 
whose heavy locks of straight black hair rioted in 
prodigal profusion down her rounded and petite 
form. She blushed on seeing a stranger, and stood 
hesitating until the Spaniard, beckoning to her, 
turned to Stanley and said, — 

^^Mr. Huntingdon, this is Ryene Alvarado, ^sole 
daughter of my house and heart.’ ” 

Stanley returned the greeting of the confused 
maiden, and as they began conversing on common- 
place topics, he noted the tenderness with which 
the Spaniard regarded his child. So,” he mused, 
as he watched the father softly stroking her luxuri- 
ant hair, this fierce old grandee has a soft spot in 
his heart, after all.” 

After exhausting her store of pretty nothings the 
little maiden kissed her father, patting him on the 
cheek as *she did so, and, courtesying to Stanley, 
glided from the room. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


163 


When the door closed after her retreating form, 
the Spaniard, draining a glass of wine, turned to 
Stanley and said, — 

I suppose, young man, you are curious to learn 
how I became acquainted with your father. It is 
easily told. I was desperately wounded at Churu- 
busco during your countrymen’s piratical expedition 
into Mexico, and your father rescued me, nursed 
me, and laid a thousand gentle courtesies upon me, 
which last is more than I can say for the remainder 
of your — blessed insolent race. But let that pass. 
We were thrown constantly together during my 
tedious convalescence; and when we separated he 
presented to me his likeness, which I have yet, and 
when you answered me as you did the other night, J 
detected the resemblance in a moment. The fad is, 
you are such a faithful copy of him nothing but 
stupidity prevented my recognizing you at once. So, 
if you will pardon your rude reception at my hands 
and claim my hospitality, I will endeavor to discharge 
to you the debt of gratitude I owe your father.” 

Answering him in the same spirit, Stanley turned 
the conversation upon other themes, and was sur- 
prised at the vast erudition his host displayed. But 
while he conversed with equal facility upon any 
and all subjects, such a settled hate and bitterness 


164 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


against all mankind boiled up in his deep tones that 
Stanley, inured to cynicism as he was, shrank from 
the lurid lightnings of his scathing satire. And as 
he listened and looked while the Spaniard rambled 
on, seemingly determined to exhaust all of his jeers 
and maledictions in one grand burst, the belief 
grew steadily upon him that he had somewhere 
seen those rugged features and heard that strong, 
sonorous voice. Being, however, unable to recall 
any incident to substantiate the belief, he waited 
patiently until the Spaniard, delivering all mankind, 
body and soul, to sheoks lowest realm, turned to 
him and said, — 

You must pardon this outrageous proceeding ; 
the sight of your face has roused all the blistered 
ghosts of my past and, as you are the only Ameri- 
can to whom I have spoken for years, I cannot 
forego the luxury of redamning a race which has 
crowded a hotter hell into my bosom than that 
prince of fanatics, Tertullian, ever dreamed of. 
May the accumulated and concentrated curse of 
Moloch^s rebellious legions light red-hot upon their 
insolent and hell-heated heads ! There, that is the 
benediction which dimisses the congregation ; so, 
now tell me something of yourself. Why do I 
find the son of Lewis Huntingdon apparelled like a 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


165 


gentleman, and occupying, as he informs me, a 
menial’s position ?” 

“It is through a series of misfortunes which 
would hardly interest you,” Stanley answered, 
evasively. 

“ Come, come, young sir,” the Spaniard said, 
proffering Stanley the cigars, “I know you think 
you had as well choose Beelzebub at once for a con- 
fidant, but I assure you I am anxious to hear your 
story ; and, as none but menials surround me, it is 
unlikely that I will abuse your confidence, — so out 
with it.” 

Stanley never knew what prompted him to re- 
spond to this brusque invitation ; but the wine was 
warming a heart sore with its own bitterness and 
longing for sympathy ; so, ere he was well aware of 
the fact, he was narrating the vicissitudes of his 
short but varied life. He spoke of his Mississippi 
home, his irregular and unfortunate training, and 
then in simple, touching words portrayed his love 
for Lena and its consequences, the reckless after- 
life, and manner of dissipating his fortulie, then 
touching lightly on his experience as a carpenter, 
paused. 

“ Complete the story,” the Spaniard said, after 
waiting a few minutes for Stanley to resume. 


166 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


It is complete,” Stanley answered, wondering at 
the gentle but melancholy look that softened the 
rugged features of the other. 

will continue the narration,” the Spaniard 
said. ‘^An unlucky fate brought you in the ca- 
pacity of carpenter to Colonel Ellswaitlfs home, 
where you meet his niece, who, I understand, is 
a second Juliet, and, being unable to play the 
Romeo, you are hesitating between the desire to 
prove yourself a man by nursing yourself into a 
beatific resignation to the slings of fate and the 
wild longings to find rest, recreation, and better 
company in the confines of sheol. Am I not cor- 
rect?” 

The present is mine and mine alone,” Stanley 
said, haughtily ; so leave me in peace to shape it 
as I think best.” 

Well, well, just as you like,” the Spaniard re- 
sponded. I must confess, however, that you have 
had a varied and unlovely experience, and I admire 
the pluck which has enabled you to bear it.” 

The Spaniard indulged in no further idiosyncra- 
sies, and proved such an agreeable companion that 
the clock struck twelve before Stanley realized how 
time was flying. On starting up to take his leave, 
his host, after urging him in vain to spend the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


167 


night, drew on a sombrero and accompanied him to 
the foot of the mountain. 

As they walked along in silence, the Spaniard 
turned suddenly and said, “ You acted a fool, young 
sir.’^ 

In what particular instance ?” 

With that little Lena of yours. Mark my 
words, the future will reveal her truth and inno- 
cence.’^ 

I would like to entertain that hope,” Stanley 
answered, simply, but I read her own condemna- 
tion.” 

“ That may be true, but you will discover that 
letter to be a fraud; the work of some abandoned 
wretch who hated you both. We part here,” he 
continued, pausing and turning to Stanley ; when 
will I see you again?” 

“ Never, perhaps,” Stanley answered ; 1 return 

to San Francisco the day following to-morrow.” 

‘‘The work was hardly worth your trip out.” 

“ There is an abundance of work ; but I have 
concluded to return and send a friend of mine out 
to complete it.” 

“So, so,” the Spaniard said, looking at him 
keenly, “I read your history correctly after all. 
Good-night.” 


168 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


Stanley walked slowly on until reaching the spot 
where a small stream, leaping from the cliflPs above 
and opening out like a bridal veil, lost itself in 
billowy foam among the rocks beneath; there he 
paused, and was watching the fires gleaming along 
the distant heights, and listening to the sweep of 
the falling waters, when a hoarse voice said, — 

“ It seems I am not the only uneasy spirit abroad 
to-night/’ 

Wheeling round, Stanley saw Lawrence Hamil- 
ton standing, with white, set face, in the moonlight. 

What were the thoughts I disturbed ?” he said, 
with a short laugh at Stanley’s surprise. 

I was only thinking,” Stanley answered, what 
a glorious exchange it would be if, by laying my 
worthless carcass in its grave, I could gain for my 
restless spirit an eternal home amid these beautiful 
scenes. 

“But what has happened, Mr. Hamilton?” he 
asked, after a moment’s silence. 

“ Happened ? I — oh, nothing very serious,” Law- 
rence replied. “I have only lost the love of the 
sweetest woman on earth, and with it the happiness 
of a lifetime, — that is all.” 

Stanley extended his hand in silent sympathy, and 
as Lawrence grasped it, he continued : 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


169 


I said I lost her love ; possibly I never possessed 
it, but I think otherwise, and I believe I am clasp- 
ing the hand of him who has stolen it from me. 
Nay, do not start away ; so far am I from blaming 
you, I would pour out all my wealth at your feet 
did I think you could make her happy.” 

As Stanley watched the grand suffering face at 
his side he w^as overwhelmed with a bitter sense of 
his own littleness; and, wringing his companion’s 
hand, he exclaimed, — 

^^It is preposterous to suppose she would turn 
from such as you to fix her love upon my unworthi- 
ness.” 

^^Your modesty does you credit,” Lawrence re- 
plied; ^^you are fiery and impetuous like the clime 
that nursed you, you are also as full of imperfections 
as this world is of suffering, but there is much in 
you that is lovable, and I suppose she has discovered 
it; so stop brooding over your shortcomings and 
endeavor to lengthen them, for where I would give 
you my fortune and my life to secure her happiness 
I would slay you did you bring her to grief.” 

You are overwrought at present,” Stanley said, 
gently ; let us return and speak no further of what 
is utterly futile.” 

know you think my speech proceeds from 
15 


170 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


the rashness of despair,” Lawrence said, looking 
earnestly at Stanley ; let me assure you of the 
contrary. It has been three hours since I learned 
my fate, and I have lived years in the mean time. 
I will marry some day, certainly, 'in order to per- 
petuate my name, but to love Irene Ellswaith once 
is to love her forever; because, love cannot decline, 
it requires an object more worthy than the last, and 
to rise above her is to reach the angels. You under- 
stand me and realize why I am doomed. I have 
lost her. You are her equal mentally, I will see 
that you are financially; so go to her, and if she 
loves you make her happy, that is all I ask.” 

‘^The nobility of your sacrifice is as grand as 
your generosity is boundless,” Stanley replied, re- 
pressing a smile; ^^but it fails to prevent your offer 
from being ridiculous. There is as little likelihood 
of my accepting your offer as there is of the fallen 
angels regaining their lost territory ; so make your- 
self easy until your overwrought brain will allow 
you to realize what you are asking. It is late, — let 
us return.” 

I promised Irene I would conceal this denoue- 
ment from her aunt, at least for the present; so 
leave me to regain my self-possession by morning,” 
Lawrence said, turning away. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


171 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

As the family gathered at the breakfast-table 
the following morning, Stanley noticed Lawrence’s 
gloomy, abstracted air, and to prevent others from 
observing the same, he drew all eyes upon himself 
by relating his adventures with the Spaniard. 
When he concluded with a eulogy upon the Span- 
iard’s vast learning and seemingly unlimited wealth, 
the little blonde turned to Colonel Ellswaith with 
a look of injured innocence upon her saucy face as 
she sighed, — 

Sir, did we deserve this at your hands ?” 

Deserve what, chatterbox?” the colonel asked, 
with a smile. 

You propose to entertain us, indeed have 
searched this country in your endeavors to amuse 
us, and all the time this ogre’s den lay at your door. 
Had I known this three months earlier he would be 
at my feet this moment, singing my praise instead 
of sulking in his lair, abusing all mankind. Oh, 
what ” 

“Ha!” the colonel exclaimed, glancing over a 


172 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


note which a servant handed him. ^^Mr. Hunt- 
ingdon, you are a wizard. Here that Spaniard has 
sulked among us for ten years, not deigning to 
notice even our very existence. You appear on the 
scene and, presto ! here comes a perfumed invitation 
to attend an entertainment at his house. Ladies, 
shall we accept the ” 

A chorus of ayes interrupted the question, as the 
ladies laughingly planned their modus operandi of 
subjugating this interesting old grandee. 

^^Mr. Huntingdon,” the colonel continued, the 
moment he could make himself heard, ^^you are 
particularly requested to attend ; in fact, he leaves 
you no possible excuse for refusing. He tells me to 
insist on your accompanying us, as he wishes to 
speak with you on several subjects left unbroached 
during your last night’s interview. Indeed, I for 
one would hesitate about invading this ogre-land 
without your magic wand to protect me.” 

You will find his roar more frightful than his 
spring,” Stanley replied. He is peculiar, however, 
and you must be on your guard while conversing 
with him ; for by patiently listening while he anath- 
ematized my countrymen is, I think, what gained 
me favor in his eyes.” 

The family laughingly separated after this to 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


173 


make preparations for the coming event ; and when 
the hour for departure arrived Stanley discovered he 
was billeted for a seat with Lawrence, Irene, and 
the little blonde. Although only a short distance 
across the hills to the Spaniard’s home, it was full 
six miles by way of the valley, and to this trio it 
promised to be an awkward drive. The little blonde, 
however, was serenely unconscious of any friction, 
and chattered on until she fortunately introduced a 
non-committal subject by exclaiming, — • 

Oh, Mr. Hamilton, I read the loveliest letter 
to-day about women’s rights, and you just ought to 
see how nicely she abused you menfolks.” 

There will be an earthquake shortly, I fear,” 
Lawrence said, gravely, as he glanced across the 
valley to where Mount Diablo loomed up against 
the fading eastern sky. 

What do you mean, sir ? Are you trying to be 
satirical ? I read all the papers, sir, whether you 
believe it or not. Why, I am even writing an arti- 
cle exposing our woes.” 

Mercy !” Lawrence cried. I implore you, in 
the name of humanity, to desist, or at least allow 
us time to escape to foreign shores. Do you think 
because Dame Nature has sat quietly during pre- 
ceding wonders she can maintain her equanimity 
15 * 


174 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


over the last? Why, my dear child, if you com- 
plete that article, she will start from her seat, shake 
her hoary locks, and send us where women cease 
from troubling and men, of course, are at rest.” 

Nonsense ! Because I don’t look solemn like 
an owl, or a man, and don’t use big words, you im- 
agine I never think ; but when my article appears 
you will discover your error. Yes, and you will 
also blush over your own selfishness and silly rea- 
sonings when I expose them; when I prove a 
woman can be as amiable and lovable dropping a 
ballot in the box as slipping a billet-doux in the 
post-bag ; when I show that, while you let us attend 
church every Sabbath with perfect equanimity, and 
have us pace all over the country on begging expe- 
ditions for that church, you are shaken with a fear 
of unkept and abandoned homes if we think of 
devoting one day in two years to the polls ; and — 
and — well, you just wait and see.” 

This sally seemed to touch Lawrence, for he re- 
sponded, gravely, ^‘You will doubtless prove God 
was jesting when, speaking through his chosen 
teachers, he subordinated woman to man ; and then 
you will discover the seal of authority on your 
brows; thus proving that our imagining we are the 
lords of creation is a snare and a delusion. You 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


175 


will then by a flourish of rhetorical trumpets prove 
that women’s home-bred purity and innocence can 
preserve its immaculate robes unsullied through the 
alleys of money-grabbing and the purlieus of po- 
litical intrigues ; in short, you will prove her more 
than human: exempt from temptation, incapable of 
being corrupted by circumstances, impossible to err, 
invulnerable against the assaults of the world, the 
flesh, and the devil, through time and all eternity.” 

“Where is your South’s boasted chivalry, Mr. 
Huntingdon ?” the little blonde cried, when Law- 
rence concluded. “I didn’t think it would see a 
woman imposed on in this way without defending 
her.” 

“ Pray pardon me,” Stanley replied, laughing, 
“I imagined you were having the best of it. I 
am, however,” he continued, addressing Lawrence, 
“ really surprised that a man of your ability would 
gravely advance such time-worn platitudes as ar- 
guments to sustain a stupendous and world-wide 
fraud.” 

“You believe in ^woman’s rights’!” Lawrence 
and Irene exclaimed, in a breath. 

“Certainly,” Stanley responded. “And how any 
one, after giving it fifteen minutes of deliberate 
thought, can believe otherwise is beyond my com- 


176 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


prehension. The Bible may appear to vindicate 
your interpretation of its pages, but I fail to discover 
it; and even if I were convinced such were its teach- 
ings, I would unhesitatingly affirm that the trial of 
twenty-five hundred years has unassailably proven 
it inculcates pernicious doctrine. For, although 
wiseacres strenuously endeavor to render unto re- 
ligion the credit of our present civilization, history 
convincingly proves their falsehood, and grandly 
and graphically portrays woman fighting her way, 
step by step, through succeeding ages, until, rising 
from the degrading position assigned her by bar- 
baric lords, she gently leads religion itself to a 
proper conception of its duties towards man and his 
Maker.* Disrobing it of its bloody and disgustingly- 
superstitious garments, she has healed its repulsive 
sores, clothed it with the mantle of her own spotless 


* I suppose Stanley meant the teachers of religion, influ- 
enced by woman’s gentler mind, interpreted the Scriptures 
less harshly than formerly. He seemed to imagine it requires 
woman’s presence to prevent man from getting “ blood in his 
eye” while looking towards the glories of the Beyond, the 
same as it requires smoked glass to prevent blindness while 
gazing at the sun. Kemembering that he was sitting by the 
gracious lady of his love, we must make all allowances for 
his somewhat daring assertions. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


177 


innocence, and given it, in all of its virgin purity, 
to a thankless world. And it takes no prophet to 
realize that were she degraded now from her present 
station, our ministers and leaders, in a cycle of years, 
by hunting down and burning witches and heretics, 
and otherwise enacting the sublime comedy of an- 
cient centuries, would nobly vindicate her wrongs. 
Then, after watching her with gentle hands smooth 
every path which she has been allowed to enter, 
humanize every circle in which she moved, gird- 
ling and restraining, as it were, a heedlessly cruel 
world with her softer and juster. instincts, — then, I 
say, after watching this, if man hesitates to enlarge 
her sphere of action by every possible means in his 
power, why, it is time God was gathering him home 
and giving to her a worthy mate.^’ 

Under cover of the darkness of the night and 
the carriage Stanley felt a warm little hand steal 
into his, as Irene^s voice said, gently, — 

Speak no further, Mr. Huntingdon, or I will 
deserve the opprobrium of turncoat.” 

A blaze of chain-lightning seemed to dance along 
Stanley’s veins as he pressed the soft palm, and 
continued : 

It might be unwise, politically, to emancipate, 
at once, a body of women that, by our own selfish- 


178 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


ness, has been hitherto debarred from threading those 
intricate paths; we manifested no hesitancy, how- 
ever, in overturning the sentimentalist’s lachryma- 
tory, the negro, upon a defenceless ballot-box, and 
why we should demur in a more excusable in- 
stance is more than I can conceive. Acknowledging, 
furthermore, that it is unwise to liberate them at 
once, how long would it require us to widen the 
mission of our educational institutions and train 
them mentally as Lycurgus did physically? But 
as I remember the lofty mental and moral standard 
of the lovely and matchless women of my own 
sunny land, and know their counterparts are scat- 
tered abroad throughout this wide-spread republic, 
I for one would not only give to them every liberty 
known to a Christian nation, but could confidently 
trust my very soul to their God-fearing guidance.” 

It is well for your mountain of poetical froth, 
young man, that we have arrived at our destina- 
tion,” Lawrence said, as the carriage drew up at 
the Spaniard’s door; “or you would behold it, 
cloud-kissing as it is, whirled into space by a gale 
of common sense.” And tucking the little blonde’s 
hand beneath his arm, he entered the house ; thus 
awarding to Stanley the glorious opportunity of 
following suit with Irene. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


179 


Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof/” 
Stanley thought, as he felt her little hand upon his 
arm; and like the shipwrecked sailor who drowns 
his senses in ardent spirits before leaping into the 
howling waves, he abandoned himself more com- 
pletely to the intoxication of the hour, regardless 
of the unillumined years that stretched beyond. 
They trod the brilliantly-lighted halls, the vo- 
luptuously-furnished chambers, and listened to the 
soft splashing of the innumerable fountains; but 
he saw no light save that raying from those lus- 
trous eyes, no beauty save in that smiling face, 
and heard no music save those gently-modulated 
tones. 

What a delicate blending there is of bliss and 
torture in an all-mastering but seemingly hopeless 
passion ! each being augmented by the tantalizing 
antithesis. One moment the bosom is thrilling 
from the soft glance of the starry-eyed god, the 
next it is shuddering from the Medusa-like stare 
of an inexorable fate; one moment love’s warm 
tide, bearing flowering petals upon its rosy crest, 
swells in the bosom, the next moment feels the ebb 
of an Arctic flood : thus rages the relentless war, 
till outraged nature would gladly hail the dark 
boatman and beard Rhadamanthus on his judg- 


180 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


ment-seat for the privilege of draining the fabled 
cup which hangs beyond. 

They entered a wide, lofty apartment, whose gold- 
spangled tapestry, polished mirrors, and richly- 
chased ornaments rescintillated the countless lights 
with such dazzling brilliancy that it all but blinded 
them. 

There were twelve ladies and as many gentlemen 
assembled in the room when Stanley and Irene 
entered, and it seemed the host and his daughter 
were only awaiting their arrival ; for as they came 
forward, the two hastened to welcome them and 
then led the way to a spacious open court where 
fifteen or twenty Mexican youth were dancing a 
rude bolero. 

You are wishing, dear reader, for a minute de- 
scription of this dance and the dancers. But I 
beg you to desist, and to allow your imagination 
to cast a soft halo of beauty about a scene which 
my too truthful pen may lucklessly mar. As you 
well know, to ravish a gypsy of his dirt and rags 
is to rob him of all that is picturesque; so, if 
you will give to the lower caste Mexican maid a 
wide straw hat, an ill-fitting calico gown, red stock- 
ings, and saucy slippers, she will make a pleasing 
picture with her elfish locks, sloe-black eyes, and 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


181 


wild natural beauty; but array her in polite rai- 
ment and what an unpolite denouement we have! 
She becomes self-conscious, and the untrained sav- 
age stares at you from every button on her person. 
Those gathered in the court were dressed, some in 
white, some in dazzling calico prints, with broad 
belts around their waists ; and as they danced with 
untamed grace to the rude music of their native 
instruments, it made a picture extremely fascinating 
to the beholder. At least it proved so to the guests 
of that night; for after the romantic scene and 
surroundings had dispelled their usually frigid de- 
corum, a string band hidden by the foliage began 
sweeping the court with its lively notes, and ere 
any one was aware of it almost all of the younger 
members were on their feet indiscriminately choos- 
ing partners for a cotillon. A jaunty vaquero 
robbed Stanley of Irene, rendering him so desperate 
that he seized on an elfish-looking Mexican maid, 
who had been slyly ogling the handsome Ameri- 
canos y and perceiving that loud dancing was the 
order of the hour, he began executing the extrava- 
gant but not ungraceful steps of the Southern 
blacks. 

‘‘ I claim you for the next set, Mr. Huntingdon,” 

the little blonde laughingly cried, as Stanley, cutting 
16 


182 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


an outrageous buck head,” wheeled past her in the 
mazy dance. 

It seemed to Stanley that his blood was on fire 
with the delirious excitement of the night, and the 
lively exercise was so in unison with his pulse that 
he felt as if he could dance forever. ‘ Sufficient 
unto the day is the evil thereof,’ ” he repeated, and 
casting care to the winds, danced with an ease and 
agility that would have turned an Irish professional 
green with envy. 

He watched Irene’s rounded form as, with spark- 
ling eyes and graceful abandon, she circled through 
the figures; and as he passed Lawrence, who had 
led out the Spaniard’s daughter, he noticed the 
flush on his cheeks and the Mat with which he 
swung the trim little figure of his partner. 

The day of miracles is not yet past,” the little 
blonde said, as they met again in the rounds, for 
‘ TJpper-Tendom’ has gone stark mad.” 

The dancing continued at intervals for a couple 
of hours ; though, after the first set, the proprieties 
were better heeded. At a sign from their master 
the Mexicans had retired, leaving the guests to 
enjoy their favorite dances, and, as the dreamy notes 
of a waltz began filling the air with its voluptuous 
strains, Stanley and Irene led off a dozen graceful 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


183 


couples which floated around the softly-illumined 
court, like the airy pageant of some exquisite dream. 

As Stanley looked at the rosy face and smiling 
lips so temptingly near, his pulses thrilled with the 
magnetism of her presence; and he wished that some 
kind genius loci would toueh them with his magic 
wand, and condemn them to continue dancing thus 
forever. But our sweetest moments are the briefest ; 
and all too soon the music ceased, and another part- 
ner led her away, leaving him feeling as I imagine 
the Peri felt when the pitying angel, claiming yet a 
purer gift, closed the jasper gates of Paradise upon 
his longing eyes. 

When the dancing flagged, the host, leading them 
through a flowery arch, discovered to their admiring 
eyes a scene worthy of fairy-land. Upon a small, 
smoothly-shaven greensward, over which torch and 
moonlight struggled for mastery, stood a richly- 
draped table covered with heavy china and silver- 
ware, and loaded with luxuries of every clime; 
while above the velvety seats encircling the table 
heavily-laden fruit-trees of every conceivable variety 
drooped their graceful boughs. 

As the guests became seated, and picturesquely- 
apparelled servants, issuing from the leafy avenues, 
stood waiting his bidding, the Spaniard said, — 


184 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


Ladies and gentlemen, the knowledge that to- 
night has broken the seclusion of ten or more years, 
will, I hope, constrain you to overlook all absence of 
etiquette during this repast. I am behind your day, 
and, of course, outside the pales of civilization; 
however, I extend to you as compensation a double 
welcome; so take what is before, pluck what is 
above you, order what is wanted, and feel your- 
selves at home.” 

The guests caught the unrestrained spirit of the 
hour, and a stream of laughter and repartee circled 
round the board as they did ample justice to the 
elegant cuisine. The wine Stanley drank (don’t 
start, reader, every one (the I. O. G. T.’s excepted), 
babies and all, in that land of vineyards, drinks the 
native juice in which lurks no guile), quickening his 
already crazy pulse, caused him to laugh, jest, and 
impale all who dared challenge him upon such keen 
shafts of wit that even the high-bred repose of 
Lady Ellswaith was disturbed by audible mirth. 

Lingering over the meal for an hour, they then 
broke up, wandering off in pairs to inspect the 
elegantly-kept grounds, exploring its artificially- 
intricate avenues, its delicious summer-houses, its 
lighted and begemmed grottos, and its living am- 
phitheatres. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


185 


Stanley and Irene wandered off together, and, 
though the bosom of each was shadowed by 
thoughts of the coming separation, each concealed 
it alike, by chatting lightly on other themes, and 
robbing the vocabulary of adjectives to bestow them 
upon the matchless scenes around them. Discover- 
ing a mammoth tent, formed by training a circle 
of vines to the lofty top of a giant eucalyptus, they 
entered and seating themselves lapsed into silence 
after a few minutes of desultory conversation. 

Through an opening in the opposite side of this 
living tent they could see au avenue leading off 
into the dense shrubbery, and from some side-path 
leading into this they saw two figures issue and 
pause as if in earnest discussion. They recognized 
the little blonde and a young San Jos6 merchant 
who had been particularly attentive to her wants the 
past few weeks. He appeared to be assiduously 
urging some claim, and ultimately, it seemed, carried 
his point, for, after glancing both ways along the 
moonlit avenue, he drew her to his bosom and kissed 
her flower-like face. 

The sight wellnigh maddened Stanley, and, spring- 
ing to his feet with a fierce imprecation, he turned 
to Irene with quivering lips and said, It is late ; 
let us return.” 


16 * 


186 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


She rose, and, silently placing her hand on his 
arm, turned into an opposite path. 

I never dreamed of your caring for her,’’ Irene 
said, shyly, after they had walked on a few moments 
in silence. 

I am really distressed at your blindness,” 
Stanley answered, mockingly. I thought my 
infatuation for her was apparent to every one.” 

Irene, of course, understood from the beginning 
what wrung the imprecation from Stanley’s lips, 
and entertained the hope that while disclaiming 
the soft impeachment he would by the tumult of 
his feelings be hurried into committing himself ; 
but when, contrary to all precedent, he began speak- 
ing carelessly on other themes, leaving her to draw 
her own inferences from his rude answer, she stifled 
a sigh and walked on in silence. She recognized 
his stubborn spirit, and having advanced as far as 
her maidenly modesty would allow, waited until 
the influence of time and her own secret prayer 
should melt the icy wall his rebellious pride had 
reared between them. 

Realizing how completely this peerless beauty, 
who reigned undisputed queen over men of wealth 
and high estate, had crucified her pride to encourage 
his advances, and how rudely he had repelled her ; 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


187 


realizing how unconditionally her proud spirit had 
surrendered to the all-conquering love which had 
transformed her from a regal woman to a sweet, 
simple, loving maiden; realizing how impossible 
it was for him to accept the wealth of love thus 
lavished upon him, — all this filled Stanley’s bosom 
with such fierce rebellion, that, had it been possible, 
like the patriarch of old, to curse God and die, 
that moment would have sealed his fate. But as 
he watched the shadow on her sweet face better 
thoughts claimed his mind, touching him with 
remorse for the brutality he had displayed. “ She 
suffers also,” he thought with a bitter pang, ^^and 
bears it uncomplainingly, like the noble woman she 
is; while I, with the usual selfishness of my sex, 
become so enamoured of my own misery that I 
cannot see the pain I give during my unmanly 
bursts of passion.” 

“Miss Ellswaith,” he said, as they neared the 
house, “ this will be our last opportunity of speak- 
ing to each other alone, and I want to ask your 
pardon for my rudeness, and to thank you once 
more for your unvarying kindness. I have but few 
things to thank God for, but His giving to me your 
friendship overbalances all the suffering with which 
He has seen fit to enrich my life. I will be a bet- 


188 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


ter man from having known you. At least I will 
make a sturdy fight before allowing Satan to urge 
me into any path which will make you blush for 
one whom you have honored with your friendship. 
I will leave to-morrow morning before you rise, 
and we may never meet again in this life, but — 
thinking on the past week will perhaps shorten my 
otherwise cheerless journey to what without that 
memory would have been a hopeless grave.” 

When he ceased speaking, Irene said, gently. 
What has been your sufferings in the past I know 
not ; but that they have been more bitter than usually 
fall to the lot of one mortal I feel certain, or your 
clear and vigorous intellect would not be blinded as 
it is to some things. You rarely speak of man or 
your Maker without being unjust, but as I believe 
it more often proceeds from passionate thoughtless- 
ness than deliberate principles, I will not mention 
the inconsistencies I have detected in your conversa- 
tions. You speak of God enriching your life with 
suffering. Ah! scrutinize your past well before 
bringing such a charge against that all-merciful 
Being. You have so much in you that is truly 
noble, that for me to bear your assurance that I 
have aided you to better thoughts is a priceless 
boon indeed; and if there is any virtue in the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


189 


prayers of one for another, rest assured that you 
will not miss your way to that better land.” 

While speaking they had walked into the lights 
streaming from the windows, and turning, they 
looked into each other’s eyes. 

“ This is our farewell,” she said, smiling softly. 

May the knowledge of my faith in you haunt you 
forever !” 

They found the company taking its leave, and 
as they entered the Spaniard came forward and 
said, — 

I will have to ask Miss Ellswaith to excuse Mr. 
Huntingdon, as I expect him to remain with me 
to-night. 

will see that you reach the depot in the 
morning,” he continued, as Stanley began protesting 
against this oif-hand manner of disposing of himself. 

And I feel certain Miss Ellswaith will pardon me 
for robbing her of her escort.” 

Yield to him the pleasure that you rob me of,” 
Irene answered, with a smile, and I will relinquish 
my claim.” 


190 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The company had departed, the household had 
retired, and the Spaniard was pacing restlessly up 
and down a long room, the walls of which were 
lined with paintings, while Stanley stood dejectedly 
by an open window. 

There was an unwonted fire in the Spaniard's 
black, restless eyes as they turned, ever and anon, 
towards the drooping figure by the window; and, 
pausing at last by a small table, he filled a couple 
of large chalices with sparkling wine, as he said, — 
Come, Mr. Huntingdon, I see the excitement of 
to-night has been too much for you; so drink this 
wine. It will re-nerve you and enable you to bear 
a long story with which I mean to bore you.” 

As Stanley silently drank off the wine, the 
Spaniard continued : I know you are surprised at 
this night’s burst of sociability ; and after listening 
to my Christian eulogies upon mankind generally 
during our last interview, you well know it was 
neither for my own pleasure nor aggrandizement 
that I invited those people hither. Ha, ha ! I could 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


191 


have dispensed with the bliss derived from to-night’s 
entertainment with saint-like fortitude. But enough 
of that. When you have heard my story, you will 
perceive the motives that prompted me to endure 
their presence. 

As you have doubtlessly suspicioned ere this, I 
am no Spaniard. I am a Virginian by birth, and 
the same hour which cursed me with life blessed 
me with a Eugene Aram for a brother. We grew 
up as unlike as were Jacob and Esau, and, like that 
prince of thieves, he defrauded me not only of my 
birthright in this world but also in the one to come ; 
if, perchance, there is another, which I seriously 
doubt, for why God would wish to be eternally 
shamed by the presence of the besotted offspring 
of his own handiwork is more than I can conceive. 
Be that as it may, my brother and I grew and 
thrived. I was fiery and impetuous; he was grave 
and stern. I loved field sports and jovial company; 
he haunted libraries and indulged in lonely walks 
and silent contemplation ; in short, I was a gay, 
unthinking youth, while he was an erudite scholar. 
How I loved, trusted, and revered his grandly- 
intellectual being God and my own wasted years 
are living witnesses. 

While pressing across the threshold which 


192 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


divides youth from manhood I met Cora Patton, a 
fair young girl who lived in an adjoining valley; 
and I think it must have been mutual love at sight, 
for we flew into each other’s arms with all the 
thoughtless ardor of inexperienced youth. From 
that hour life held for me a sweeter, deeper mean- 
ing, and realizing my manifold deficiencies caused 
by my too careless educational training, I turned to 
my brother, as I had ever done, for aid. With 
characteristic patience he taught me, advised me, 
and gently led me into a wider and loftier con- 
ception of what life should be. How I loved and 
honored that quiet, scholarly man ! It is impossible 
for you to conceive what an ascendency his noble 
intellect had gained over my impulsive spirit. Even 
standing as I do looking back over a miserably- 
wasted life, the result of his unparalleled and un- 
approachable deception, it is with something almost 
akin to awe that I brand him even now as a 
traitor. 

“ To portray my love for her, my veneration for 
him; to describe the blissful hours spent with her 
in roaming amid the matchless scenes of the Old 
Dominion; to portray the profitable hours spent 
with him in his library; to describe the shock I 
felt when, after meeting my brother, Cora crept 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


193 


into my arms and whispered that there was some- 
thing uncanny in his eyes, something that fright- 
ened her, — to picture all this is impossible, for my 
tongue has lost its cunning with softer themes 
since coining blistering maledictions during forty 
odd wretched years; so look upon her angel face 
and let your imagination supply the love that 
rounded out my life and crowned it with a glory 
too great for this jealous world.” 

Stanley stepped forward as the Spaniard unveiled 
the picture, and discovered the bright, winsome 
features of a maiden not more than eighteen years 
of age; and as he noted the pensive light in her 
large, soft eyes, and traced the tremulous sensitive- 
ness in the curves of the rosy lips, he realized that 
he beheld the representation of one of those who, 
by their pure, unselfish loves, and, too often, fatally 
tragic endings, smites the cynics dumb. 

The Spaniard's stern lips trembled with emotion 
as he gazed on the life-like picture; but turning 
away, he continued, harshly : “ Back into your 
shrouds, ye roseate memories, and rise, ye caldrons 
in which seethe the hottest lava that ever seared an 
unsuspecting bosom. Just a month ere she and I 
were to consummate our happiness, I was sitting in 

my brother’s library dreaming the dreams that had 
17 


194 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


SO often visited me, when he entered looking un- 
usually pale and grave. Walking across to the fire, 
he leaned against the mantel, gazing moodily into 
the glowing embers, and after a few minutes spent 
thus, he turned to me and said, — 

^ Guy, I have news which you will scarcely be- 
lieve ; and did I not know you are a noble, generous 
youth, capable of making any sacrifice for those you 
love, it would be difficult indeed for me to face you 
now.’ 

‘^Ah, how my heart beat at that low-spoken 
praise! And rising, I laid my hand upon his 
shoulder as I said, ^In your behalf no sacrifice 
would be too great, my brother.’ 

‘ I wish no sacrifice for myself,’ he responded, 
gently, ‘ but I fear one more terrible awaits you in 
a dearer quarter.’ And as I stood mute from the 
dark forebodings that crowded upon me, he placed 
his hand upon my shoulder and continued : 

^ I know, Guy, that in thirty days you expect 
to wed that sweet child in the adjoining valley, 
and that your very soul hangs upon its happy 
consummation; but if you suspected she loved 
you no longer, and sickened at the mere thought 
of the approaching nuptials, what would be your 
course ?’ 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


195 


^ I would act as becomes a man/ was my reply ; 
^ but for the love of God indulge no longer in such 
dark insinuations. Speak out, speak out 

‘ My poor Guy, my unhappy brother, brace 
yourself for the pain in store for you. I discovered 
this afternoon that Cora Patton loves you no longer, 
and to give a more bitter twang to the irony of fate 
has lavished her love upon my unworthy self.’ 

‘^You doubtless wonder what was my reply to 
this. I merely glanced about the room like a 
criminal casting his farewell look on earth and sky 
ere being swung into eternity, then, clasping his 
hand, I said, — 

^ Go to her and make her happy, — that is all I 
ask ; but leave me now, I am best alone.’ Ha, ha, 
ha! when I think now of the sublime trust that 
unquestioningly received those words, without one 
ruffle of doubt concerning his innocence and honor 
in the whole transaction, my very soul turns a 
derisive somersault at my magnificent stock of ver- 
dancy. Oh, thou sweet simplicity of downy youth ! 
what a comfortable sheol earth spreads for thy re- 
ception !” 

^'In the name of God who are you?” Stanley 
cried, rising excitedly. 

So you have heard the tale before ?” the other 


196 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


said, with a smile. Yes, young man, I am your 
uncle Guy.’^ 

Thank God Stanley exclaimed, fervently, as 
he seized his uncle’s hand. “I have often longed 
to see you, and wondered whether you were dead or 
alive. But complete your history; it pained my 
father so much that I could never prevail on him to 
tell me all.” 

Your father was a noble man,” Stanley’s uncle 
(whom We will call Spaniard no longer) said, draw- 
ing him to a seat by his side, and it was his un- 
selfish devotion in Mexico, and his unparalleled 
bravery on her hard-fought fields, that prevented me 
ill after years from believing all truth and nobility 
had flown for refuge to the angels. Well, there is 
little more to be told. My Jacob of a twin brother, 
with the utmost magnanimity, offered to resign busi- 
ness and visit the Old World to allow me to regain 
my affianc^e’s affections, which offer I, of course, 
refused to accept. Forcing him to promise he 
would marry her, I enlisted for the Mexican war, 
accompanied by your father. It was on the stormy 
field of Churubusco that he proved his undying 
love for his unhappy brother. We were attempting 
to carry the w^orks by storm, when a desperate 
sortie hurled our columns backward from the field ; 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


197 


and ere I was aware of my danger a hundred or 
more raging Mexican devils closed around me. I 
fought with the cool intrepidity of one careless of 
life, piling the enemy in gory heaps for my funeral 
pyre; but I was overcome at last, and as I was 
sinking beneath a hundred strokes, I heard your 
father cry, ^Courage, brother P and the next mo- 
ment, standing astride my prostrate form, he was 
covering me with the dead bodies of my assailants. 
I heard an encouraging cheer, and as I saw your 
father reel and fall from a pistol-shot, the enemy 
were swept into eternity by a gallant charge of our 
own men. When the ring of muskets, the crash of 
steel, and the tread of charging legions had rolled 
beyond, I threw off the dead bodies that covered 
me, and crawling to your father, stanched his 
gushing wounds. He revived after what seemed an 
interminable age, and wrapped in each other’s arms, 
as the night came down, we whispered, as we 
thought, our dying confessions. There, as the boom 
of the sullen cannon reverberated along the valley 
and shrieking shells went careering above us in the 
pall-black night, painting the leaden canopy of the 
lowering heavens with fantastic lightnings, I learned 
the depth and strength of one man’s heart ; learned 

how your father, through love for his younger 
17 * 


198 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


brother, had concealed his love for the same girl 
who had blighted my life, desponding in secret 
until a relenting fate stretched us together upon 
that bloody field. ... We were rescued about day- 
light, and, contrary to all expectations, survived our 
desperate wounds. Eighteen months from the day 
we departed we arrived unannounced at home, and 
discovering all the family were spending the night 
with the Pattons, in order to be on hand to wit- 
ness the nuptials of my twin brother and Cora, early 
the following morning we rode thither ourselves. 
What I suffered while traversing the old, familiar 
scenes, and entering the home of her whom I loved 
better than life or salvation, is impossible to delin- 
eate; and it was only the presence of your father 
that enabled me to bear the trying ordeal. We 
met the prospective bride and groom, only at the 
table that night ; and though I thought it was a wan, 
hopeless-looking bride, no suspicion of the horrible 
truth disturbed my mind until, standing over her 
dead body the following morning, I read the lines 
that vindicated her innocence, eternally damned 
my brother, and lighted a hell in my bosom that 
has raged with unabated fury to this hour. Oh, 
Stanley, Stanley, may God preserve you from ever 
standing by the cold corpse of the one who is your 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


199 


all in life, and realizing, as you think of your 
blasted and desolate future, that a brother’s hand 
wrought the awful ruin! It is surprising to me 
now that I did not become a raving maniac upon 
the spot, and slay the shameless devil that robbed 
her of life and spread for me a hopeless future; 
but the Huntingdons are made of stern stulf. I 
calmly listened to the black traitor’s remorseful 
confessions of the bold plotting which sundered 
Cora and me forever. I then left him with an un- 
dying curse, settled my business, and turned my 
back upon a spot which had grown unbearably 
loathsome to my mind.” 

After a few moments of silence he handed Stanley 
a paper, yellow with age, and dashing the tears from 
his eyes, Stanley read the following : 

My dear Guy, — I thank God for bringing 
you home when he did, for had not the sight of 
your face hurried the inevitable I would probably 
have lingered’ as your brother’s wife a few months 
ere sinking to rest. But now, oh, blessed thought ! 
unsullied by another’s touch, I can wait for you 
upon some happier shore. Blame me not for loving 
you too fondly when your heart is no longer mine. 
I have much to say ; but my heart is broken, and 
the last life-drops are ebbing away. Meet me, oh ! 


200 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


meet me in that better land. I will watch over you 
until you come. Farewell. Do not think ” 

The old man rose and paced the room with 
trembling limbs, while Stanley read those simple, 
touching, incomplete lines. Then, leaning against 
the mantel, he continued, in husky tones, ‘‘They 
found her prostrate before the desk with the pen 
still clutched between her fingers ; and though it is 
sweet to think her last thought was of me, it is 
inexpressibly sad that death would not allow her 
time to pour out her full heart to my widowed soul. 
And could I force myself to believe there is a here- 
after, that her angel form awaits me upon some 
other, shore, how light would be the burden laid 
upon me! But, alas, I have pondered the matter 
deeply, have gone step by step through the lapse of 
ages, and the despairing conviction has been forced 
upon my unwilling mind that when the grave 
closed upon her fair and sinless form I bade her an 
eternal farewell. 

“ Enough of that,” he exclaimed, throwing back 
his leonine head. “ I left home with such a settled 
hate against mankind, that had there been such a 
personage as the devil he would certainly have 
claimed me as his kinsman. At first, though my 
whole nature was changed and distorted, a shadowy 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


201 


remnant of my early superstition was left to me, 
and I endeavored to win surcease of sorrow by lay- 
ing the soothing unction to my soul that beyond the 
grave all would be well ; but as, like the fabled He- 
brew wanderer, I passed from clime to clime, delv- 
ing in the stored wisdom of every land, exploring 
the heart of every nation, looking abroad either in 
the New or the Old World, and beholding the earth 
swarming with a race busily damning their worth- 
less souls, I very soon concluded they had no souls 
to damn, and have settled peaceably down until 
called upon to bear a prominent part in the ‘ Diet 
of Worms/ 

^^As you know, the less we care about fortune 
the more assiduously does she shower her favors 
upon us. I first found gold in Australia, and, jeer- 
ing at my own good fortune, I discovered diamonds 
in Africa, then struck more gold in Mexico. Thus, 
having accumulated a vast fortune, with no means 
of dissipating it, I began experimenting in human 
nature ; and, ha ! ha ! if there were such a gentle- 
man as the devil, and he were one- fifth as shrewd 
as depicted, he would send up a few thousand emis- 
saries, loaded with gold, and by this means toll 
every man, woman, and child into sheol ; for, 
barring religion, gold can hurry my besotted race 


202 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


hellward faster than any instrument I have yet dis- 
covered. 

Until ten years ago I employed my time in ac- 
quiring wisdom and assisting the worthy and inno- 
cent of womankind ; but, as every saint infallibly 
turned sinner on my hands, I became thoroughly 
disgusted, and retired to this seclusion, where I 
have since lived in beatific peace, only disturbed 
occasionally by having to kick some pushing, in- 
quisitive American across my threshold.” 

Moving impatiently from the mantel, the old man 
turned to Stanley, and continued : Twelve years 
ago I rescued Ryene from a pack of beggarly kin- 
dred, who were practising on her life in order to 
reach her fortune. She has proven to be a sweet, 
loving child, and the affection I bear her compels me 
to forego my pleasant seclusion ; but as my impatient 
nature cannot bear, for any length of time, the so- 
ciety of those it abhors, I wish to marry her to 
some — what the world would call — noble youth, 
and thus be free once more to find my grave in my 
own peculiar manner. She possesses a half-million 
dollars of her own, to which I will add one million 
on her wedding morning. This, you see, coupled 
with her youth and beauty, makes rather a tempting 
dish. Will you indulge?” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


203 


Stanley roused up with a start at this abrupt 
question,' and said, It is a dish fit for the gods, 
indeed, but there are several reasons that places it 
beyond my reach.” 

The old man scowled at Stanley a few moments 
in silence, then said, “ Remember, young man, I am 
unaccustomed to being thwarted and model your 
bearing accordingly. I love Ryene as if she were 
my daughter, and since meeting you the desire has 
grown upon me to see you her husband so think 
well before refusing this ofiPer.” 

Uncle, you remember how you completed my 
history last night. You spoke truer than you 
imagined, so let that be your answer.” 

Come, young man,” the other said, placing his 
hand on Stanley’s shoulder, ^^you cannot imagine 
all that your refusal involves. Ryene during the 
past ten years has become inexpressibly dear to me. 
Her presence is necessary to my happiness, and did 
I marry her to some sordid worldling I would lose 
her forever, for I could never endure his presence 
here. Now you are quiet, sensible, and the son of 
the only man in all the world that I do not hate ; 
so save me the loss of my child by becoming one of 
my family. You are poor, proud, and finely edu- 
cated ; I am lonely and need your society ; Ryene 


204 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


is wealthy, pretty, and needs a husband ; so take 
her to your arras and supply all our needs. This 
house is stored with books, with servants and un- 
limited wealth, all at your command; so settle here 
until the grave closes upon me, then follow any path 
your ambition chooses. Remember that you are 
eminently fitted to fill the highest positions in life, 
and do not lightly cast aside this last opportunity of 
building a proud name.” 

Stanley stood as if charmed while his uncle’s 
low, winning tones filled his ears; but shaking off 
the spell as the other ceased speaking, he replied, 
slowly, — 

‘‘Two weeks ago I would have accepted this 
flattering offer with philosophical equanimity, but 
it comes too late. My past has been all error, 
and I am steeped to the lips in guilt ; but a true 
and noble woman has usurped the devil in my 
bosom, and by the grace of God she shall reign 
there forever. My youth was guided by blind pas- 
sion, my manhood, until this hour, by metaphysical 
sophistry ; but the love which irradiates my soul at 
this moment discovers to me the devil’s woof; so 
marvel not that I prefer a life of toil beneath 
the light of redemption, which, like Aurora’s rosy 
fingers, gilds my future, to a life of wealth and 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


205 


influence coupled with the mire and misery of all 
that I have escaped. I am but mortal, and your 
ofier is fascinating in the extreme, I own ; so tempt 
me not, but rather aid me in being true to myself, 
to my love, and to my God. Uncle, I am more 
hopeful than you ; where life offers me nothing here, 
all win be well beyond the grave, — 

So claim my life, and thou wilt quickly see 
The Spartan in my bosom, — lay me low, 

But while my heart’s the universe to me, 

Oh I ask me not its raptures to forego. 

’Twould matter not, ’twould matter not, I know. 

If this poor life would end the sacrifice ; 

But as the far eternal years shall fiow. 

If I should lose the sunlight of her eyes, 

A desert dark and drear would be yon beaming skies.” 

The old man’s face softened during this reply; 
but turning away after Stanley ceased speaking, he 
paced slowly to and fro for a few minutes, while 
every feature grew black and rigid from the fierce 
passion surging through his bosom. Pausing at last, 
he said, in harsh, metallic tones, — 

I have heard it said that blood is thicker than 
water, but for those like myself, whose veins pulse 
with the liquid flow of hell’s hottest flames, it proves 

a delusion. You are my brother’s son. The sight 

18 


206 STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 

of your poverty-stricken state, coupled with the 
courtesies your father laid upon me, very nearly 
resurrected the humanity which lies buried beneath 
the mountains of my wrongs ; but your decision 
has chanted the final requiem above the uneasy 
ghost, I offered you a young wife, unlimited 
wealth, and an uncle’s love ; but, as you see fit to 
scorn my offer, go, warm yourself upon the cold 
shoulders of your employers, and live by the fruit 
you have plucked.” 

Stanley’s eyes wandered to the picture of Cora 
Patton hanging upon the wall, and a bitter taunt 
rose to his lips; but his indomitable pride welling 
up suppressed the sneer, and turning to his uncle, he 
said, haughtily, — 

If my memory serves me right your last speech 
is as superfluous as it is contemptible; for I am 
unable to recollect any endeavor on my part to 
extract sustenance from your very generous fountain 
of the milk of human kindness. If your ghost of 
humanity slumbers beneath the Himalaya of your 
wrongs until I stoop to draw it forth, it will remain 
there until God’s everlasting throne crumbles to 
dust beneath Him. I was not aware that you rested 
under obligations to my father until you noisily 
informed me of the fact, and even then expected 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


207 


nothing more at your hands than the courtesy of a 
kinsman and a gentleman. You choose to withhold 
that because I respectfully declined the wife and 
unlimited wealth which you voluntarily placed at 
my disposal ; so that divorces the only claim that 
binds us, and we will now separate at your earliest 
convenience.’^ 

So be it !” the old man responded, turning to 
the window with a harsh, grating laugh. ^^^The 
cock has crown, and light begins to clothe each 
Californian hill.’ Will you retire for a few hours’ 
rest, or shall I order the carriage now?” 

“ The carriage, by all means.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

Partaking slightly of the repast which his 
uncle ordered, Stanley then donned his overcoat and 
descended the steps to the carriage drawn up in 
waiting. As he was about to enter the vehicle, his 
uncle came forward and placed an envelope in his 
hands. 


208 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


What is this Stanley asked. 

A check on the National Bank for five thousand 
dollars.” 

What shall I do with it?” 

Draw the money and use it.” 

I was not aware of the fact that you were in- 
debted to me.” 

I am, however.” 

“ By what means ?” 

Well, you patiently listened to a confidential 
legend last night, which I would dislike exceed- 
ingly to have divulged ; and this is what attor- 
neys would specify as hush-money ; so use it, and 
when the secret begins to gnaw your vitals, no- 
tify me of the fact, and I will remit further 
checks.” 

The hot blood leaped to Stanley's cheeks at this 
nonchalant insult; but instantly controlling him- 
self, he tossed the envelope at his uncle’s feet, and 
silently entered the carriage. 

Wait, young sir,” the old man said, coming to 
the carriage door. Let there be peace and unity 
between us, and receive this check as a token of good 
will.” 

“ Uncle,” Stanley exclaimed, in quivering tones, 

you have sufficiently provoked me for one inter- 



STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


209 


view, and if you are not entirely lost to all sense of 
shame and decency leave my sight.” 

The old man stepped back and ordered the driver 
to start, and while watching the carriage whirl down 
the avenue a grim smile flitted across his face as he 
muttered, — 

His father over again ! But having been de- 
ceived so often, I will make sure in this instance. 
So, so ! Six weeks’ steadfastness will remove the 
embargo. She is a noble creature, and loves the 
very ground he treads. I fear the millennium is at 
hand, ha !” 

Stanley was so utterly lonely and heartsick that 
he felt himself unequal to the ordeal of mingling, 
just then, with his brother workmen, and of meet- 
ing Baines’s jovial face; so, instead of returning to 
San Francisco, he purchased a ticket for Gilroy. 
Arriving there, he procured a horse, and crossing 
the valley, ascended the mountains east of Soap 
Lake. As the sun was dipping behind the Coast 
Kange of hills he arrived at his destination. This 
was a rude mountain cottage, amply furnished with 
everything necessary to camp-hunters, owned by an 
old man whose outlying acres stretched for miles on 
either hand, and whose countless herds roamed at 

will throughout the wide boundaries of this un- 
18 * 


210 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


peopled district. The name of this old hermit is 
known throughout the State* from his peculiar gen- 
erosity. He lives alone in a solitary hut situated at 
the base of a beetling cliff, and though his friends 
are legion, not one has ever succeeded in crossing 
the threshold of his humble home ; but just above, 
in an elbow of the ridge, he maintains a free tavern 
for all who choose to claim his inexhaustible hospi- 
tality; that is, provided they are content to wait 
upon themselves. This tavern is a rude cottage of 
four rooms, surrounded by orchards and vineyards, 
and supplied with a bountiful larder. Beds, tables, 
chairs, dishes, guns, and ammunition-pouches ad in- 
finitum fill the rooms, all without money and without 
price. The peculiar and generous life of the old 
hermit should teach its own lesson ; but if, perchance, 
any religious enthusiast is exercised about his spirit- 
ual welfare, know he is a devout Methodist, an 
able theologian, and a quiet, genial companion. As 
my mind pictures thy form as I last saw thee, O 
guileless recluse, my heart cries, God be with 
thee!’’ Though no gilded church echoes thy ori- 
sons, the mountain breezes bear them on unpolluted 
wings to thy listening Maker ; and fear not that He 
who watches the sparrow’s fall will overlook thee in 


* Fact. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


211 


that vast aod silent solitude. Thou kneelest upon 
an altar still more divinely consecrated, for has He 
not proclaimed the majestic and everlasting hills to 
be His awful footstool ? 

Stanley groomed his horse, then lighting a fire in 
the stove, placed the teakettle thereon ; then, taking 
down a shotgun, he crossed the orchard, and fired 
into a large covey of unsuspecting quail. Securing 
the victims of his carnivorous passion, he returned to 
the house, where the characteristic meal of a help- 
less bachelor (spread in cosmopolitan array, and 
mingled in unconventional confusion) was soon 
smoking upon the table. There was tea, ham and 
eggs (!), quail off toast, fried Irish potatoes, raw to- 
matoes, flour hoecake, honey, and a basket of grapes. 
Finishing this substantial meal, he left the dishes to 
their fate, or to some accommodating fairy, and drew 
a chair out upon the porch, where, with innumerable 
cigars, he watched the mist roll up from the distant 
valley, and listened to the night-winds murmuring 
their complaints to the silent hills. O Solitude, 
thou Medusa to the guilty, thou comforter of de- 
sponding virtue ! from thy vast and shadowy bosom 
the stricken spirit draws ambrosial sustenance. 

The past, with its hopes, its fears, its joys, and its 
sorrows, rolled forever away as Stanley sat with 


212 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


bowed head in the darkness; and, though his soul 
quivered with rebellious claniorings as it relin- 
quished the last and fondest dream and turned 
hopelessly towards the unillumined future, the brave 
though humble petition that welled up long centu- 
ries ago from the garden of Gethsemane re-echoed 
along those Californian hills, crowning his com- 
plete surrender with quiet fortitude : If it be pos- 
sible, O my Father, let this cup pass from me: 
nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.’^ Ah, 
who has ever known Him to refuse that humble 
plea? And when the east became flushed with 
morning he felt that another dawn looked upon an- 
other life, — one less complete perhaps than his soul 
had wished, but one bereft of bitterness, strength- 
ened, purified, and based upon the seal of that lonely 
covenant. 

Days flew into weeks, and weeks rolled away, still 
Stanley lingered on the spot which had grown inex- 
pressibly dear to him. He felt safe, for the busy, 
tempting world invaded not this realm with its 
contagious fevers. But after the lapse of five 
weeks a party of huntsmen visited the cottage, and 
hanging up his gun, he bade farewell to his favorite 
haunts, returned the books of the old hermit, and 
departed for San Francisco. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


213 


Arriving in the city late in the afternoon, he 
found his room occupied by strangers, and, to his 
unbounded astonishment, learned that Kaines was 
a two- weeks-old Benedict; learned that he had 

purchased a house on H Street, and had taken 

his bride, his own and Stanley’s effects thither. 

The beaming face of the bonny Jean greeted his 
entrance; and as he began offering his elaborate 
congratulations Baines heard his voice, and bound- 
ing into the hall, clasped Stanley to his bosom with 
such affectionate arms that ribs stood in imminent 
danger of collapsing. 

‘‘It’s Duke, by all that’s grand and glorious! 
Where the George Washington have you been? 
Ain’t she a darling? Twist my neck if she mustn’t 
kiss you. Come, come, Jeaney, he made the match, 
show your gratitude. There, that looks more like 
a Christian. But supper’s gettin’ cold, — come !” 

There was very little sleep for them that night, 
I warrant you, for there was much to relate on 
each side. Stanley was convulsed with laughter 
during Baines’s description of his swift courtship, 
interlarding, as he did, the narration with innumer- 
able fervid ejaculations at his blissful condition. 
But, amusing as the conversation was, it was almost 
pathetic to watch the great honest fellow’s full soul 


214 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


peeping from his eyes as he watched the trim little 
figure of his wife bustling about the table. 

“My God, Duke!’’ he cried, almost plaintively, 
“how can I contain all my happiness? And just 
think, old boy, I owe it all to you; for had you not 
taken me in hand last year, I would not have saved 
up the money I did; and, besides, I was such a 
simple ostrich, I don’t believe I would have thought 
of marrying had you not reminded me that such 
things ought to be did. But come, let’s look at the 
house.” 

While the happy trio march up-stairs and down- 
stairs, we will follow them and take an inven- 
tory. First, as I have intimated before, it was 
a pretty little two-story building with wide Swiss 
cornice, and bay-windows jutting out from the side 
and front. It was painted a sea-green, with oaken- 
stained shutters, and was sitting back from the street, 
behind a greensward and forest park, twenty feet 
square. The furniture, though cheap, was new and 
tastefully selected, and those small, dainty rooms, 
with their maroon-colored carpeting and gracefully- 
draped curtains, presented a prettier and more home- 
like picture than many a more ambitious home. 

Raines, like some pompous lord chamberlain, 
conducted the party from room to room, ushering 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


215 


them in, and, falling back, he would hugely enjoy 
the etfect it produced. 

It is needless to say that Stanley enjoyed their 
simple, unaffected pride in their modest little home, 
and filled their cup of happiness to overflowing by 
his genuine admiration of everything he saw; but 
when, with many sly looks, they conducted him 
into a perfect little gem of a room, and he discov- 
ered it was the one set apart for himself, by seeing 
his own belongings ranged around, he could scarcely 
suppress the rising tears. As he silently grasped 
Raines’s hand, that great overgrown fellow made a 
horribly wry face, swallowing some troublesome 
lump in his throat, and, patting Stanley on the 
shoulder, drew Jean out of the room. 

An hour later, as Stanley sat smoking in the bay- 
window, Raines re-entered and said, ^^By the way, 
Duke, here is a letter that an outlandish-looking 
Mexican left here for you ten days ago.” 

‘‘Thank you, Raines,” Stanley said, taking the 
letter. Then placing his hand upon the other’s 
shoulder, he continued : “ Loud protestations of 
thanks and pleasure, old boy, are useless between 
you and me. But, let me say, I thought it was 
impossible for me to feel as happy as you and your 
wife have made me to-night. I feel at home for 


216 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


the first time since losing my own; and, as it is 
unlikely that I shall ever claim another, depend 
upon my standing godfather as the exigencies re- 
quire during ” 

Avast there Raines cried, rapturously squeez- 
ing Stanley’s arm. Don’t smother me with 
thoughts of additional bliss. But, Duke, tell me 
something more of yourself. Why did you leave 
that job ? The old colonel told Jim, who went out 
to complete it, that you were an excellent workman, 
and seemed to be puzzled at your French-leave ; so 
what got wrong ?” 

There are some things that are best left un- 
spoken,” Stanley said, sadly, ‘^so ask me about 
anything but that.” 

Well, well, old fellow, just as you like. I 
could, however, make a pretty shrewd guess, for 
there was a certain somebody asked Jim for your 
address.” 

They talked until far into the night, and when 
Raines descended to his room Stanley turned to 
the letter. He scanned the bold chirography and 
puzzled over it a while before breaking the seal. 

Let’s see what the old satyr has to say,” he 
muttered, with lowering brows, as he discovered his 
uncle’s name. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


217 


“My dear Stanley,” the letter began, “I think 
you must be the very devil, for, like mother Eve, I 
have had no rest since you invaded my paradise. 
My dear boy, I cannot bear the idea of Lewis 
Huntingdon’s son and my own nephew figuring as 
a common workman; so forget what has passed 
between us and return to me. I have been cultivat- 
ing Irene’s society since you left, and find in her a 
noble spirit ; and, if you love her half as fondly as 
you profess, disarm that indomitable pride of yours, 
and, backed by my wealth, go win her for a bride, 
or I swear by the gods of Abraham, Isaac, and 
Jacob I will lay siege to her myself. That noble 
soul shall never pass out of the family, so look to it. 
By the way, that young Hamilton has been sneak- 
ing around here ever since you left, and I believe 
he has about persuaded Eyene that he is the very 
man she needs; so you see that sweeps away the 
bone of contention. He will take my child away 
to his city home, and then my loneliness will cry 
out after you; so come, my dear boy, and share 
my home. I am your unfortunate and affectionate 
uncle, 

“ G. E. Huntingdon.” 

As Stanley read these lines, Irene’s sweet face 

rose before his eyes, and his pulses thrilled at the 
19 


218 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


glorious possibilities the tempting offer placed 
within his reach; but when he thought of being 
subjected to the whims and caprices of the fiery 
and blasphemous spirit of that embittered old man, 
his self-respect answered nay; and taking up his 
pen, he wrote, — 

My DEAR Uncle, — I arrived here to-night and 
found your letter awaiting me. It is doubly hard 
for me to refuse your generous offer, as I believe it 
will shadow another life besides my own; but, as 
you ought to know, it is best that you and I should 
live apart. You understand my meaning. Though 
it is impossible for me to accede to your wishes, I 
am glad you extended the offer, for your kind letter 
obliterates the bitterness implanted by your parting 
words. Hoping God will strike the scales from 
your eyes so that you may see His shining mercies, 
I am, with best wishes for your welfare, your 
nephew. 


“Stanley Huntingdon.’^ 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


219 


CHAPTER XXL 

So Stanley engages again in carpentry ; but, 
patient reader, leave him and Raines trimming up 
bay-windows around those magnificent buildings, 
and come with me along Market Street. Ah, here 
we are at this restaurant. Enter and peep into the 
ladies’ department. What elegantly-dressed lady is 
that impatiently fingering those luscious grapes? 
‘^You don’t know?” Why, I am shocked at 
you ! That is Irene Ellswaith. What is she 
doing there?” How do I know. Wait and see. 
Watch that messenger-boy making towards her. 
Hear him. 

Miss, that other man has married, and they are 

living at Xo. — H Street. He and Mr. 

Huntingdon are at work, but his wife is at home.” 

Thank you,” she says, slipping a coin in his 
hand. ^^Xow call a carriage and I will be through 
with you.” 

She leaves the restaurant, enters the carriage, and 
is driven to Raines’s home, where the simple Jean, 
answering the bell, is knocked all of a heap” at 


220 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


sight of the elegant costume. '^Costume?” Yes, 
costume ! apparel, silks, satins, furs, and furbelows. 
Some one asks, What’s in a name?” but I ask. 
What’s in a face?” and echo answers, “ What?” 
so, if you imagine I am wrong, test the matter your- 
self. Array your elegant figure in seedy robes, 
place a battered hat above your solemn and intel- 
lectual mug, and hang me up by the thumbs if one 
stranger discovers your superiority. My dear sir, 
miss, or madam, strangers frequently discover virtue 
in rags, and by some subtle magnetism detect no- 
bility of purpose in a suspicious attitude, — but, un- 
fortunately, it is confined to books. This, however, 
is not introducing Irene into Raines’s home. Did 
you ask why she was alone in a public restaurant, 
patrolling the streets minus a duenna, and entering 
a strange house uninvited? ^^Yes.” Are you an 
American? “Yes.” Were you ever in love? 
“Yes.” Then why do you ask such foolish ques- 
tions? I am surprised at you. Why did I, a 
timid youth, brave the dangers of darkness and get 
my toes frostbitten hanging about Sally’s window? 
What nerved me to dare Apollo’s thunderbolts while 
murdering metre in my attempts to tell the world 
about her bewitching curls and saucy black eyes? 
What was it (while suffering with the sweet unself- 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


221 


ish passion) that imbued me with a desire to scalp 
Monsieur Byron for informing me that, with the 
ladies, “Mammon wins his way wdiere seraphs 
might despair” ? What decided me to bequeath to 
the world a Miltonian epic in which I meant to 
dance all over the aforesaid gentleman’s misanthrop- 
ical absurdities, and revenge the wrongs of those 
guileless angels ? Alas ! ere I could prove how 
easily the American eagle could overcrow the 
British lion, Oberon poisoned my Titania’s eyelids 
with the cursed herb, and the spreading pinions of 
my careering muse were singed and blasted by the 
equatorial sighs with which she pursued that rich 
old satyr, Jenkins of Jenkinsville. Tempora mu- 
tantur, et nos mutamur in illis. Verbum sat sapienii. 

Be patient, dear reader, I will introduce those 
two ladies in five minutes. With the ubiquity of 
an author, I chanced to be sitting in Irene’s boudoir 
the evening before this chapter opens ; and as I sat 
admiring her matchless beauty, while my mind 
overwhelmed Stanley with such classic apothegms 
as ass, dolt, etc., because of his stubbornly-idiotic 
treatment of this peerless creature, I heard a faint 
sigh, and, drawing nearer, I caught these faintly- 
murmured words: 

“Ah, well, it may be wrong, it may be un- 
19 * 


222 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


maidenly, but he will never know, and if he dis- 
covers it I can die.” Ah, meek-eyed despair, how 
ably dost thou force the antique Roman” into a 
timid bosom ! “ I can see this Raines, of whom he 

spoke so affectionately, and devise some scheme by 
which I can assist him without exposing my hand. 
If I fail in this, his inordinate pride will weigh 
him down forever. Oh, cruel, cruel ! why didst 
thou ever cross my path ? I can escape from my 
friends to-morrow, and have the whole day to my- 
self for consummating this half-formed plan. It is 
wrong, oh ! I know it’s wrong, even dangerous to 
my fair name; but he trusts this man Raines, and 
what should hinder me ? Enough, it shall be done.” 

The reader can gather from these ambiguous 
sentences that this queenly woman meditated some 
act from which her proud soul recoiled ; but love, 
ah ! that relentless master, guided her into paths 
repugnant to every feeling of her modest spirit. 

As Jean opened the door, Irene stepped forward 
and said, Do I address Mrs. Raines ?” 

Yes, miss.” 

I would like to speak with you a few minutes, 
if you are at leisure.” 

^^This way, miss,” Jean answered, leading her 
into the cosey little parlor. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


223 


I can trust that honest face/’ Irene thought, as 
Jean blushingly offered to take her wraps ; and sit- 
ting down, they entered into an earnest conversation 
of an hour’s duration, the end of which discovered 
Jean on her knees at Irene’s feet, as she looked 
lovingly up into the dark, glorious eyes. 

Do you think it can be done ?” Irene asked, 
smoothing back the locks from her companion’s brow. 

^^Yes, miss, my husband can manage it.” 

Well, then, you unfold it to him, and let me 
know his decision to-morrow. Tell him all I ask, 
for myself, is absolute secrecy; that he can use my 
purse as if it were his own in furthering this plan ; 
and that he will be abundantly remunerated for his 
trouble. I will have the writings ready for you 
when you come; and remember, above all things, 
if Mr. Huntingdon suspects my hand he will over- 
throw the whole plan ; so be cautious. 

What pretty rooms you have!” she continued, 
rising to take her leave. How long have you been 
married ?” 

^^Just four weeks yesterday,” Jean answered, 
blushing. ‘'Would you like to look through the 
house?” 

“ Yes,” Irene answered, smiling at tlie artless 
simplicity. And, tripping on ahead, the happy 


224 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


Jean conducted the young heiress over the house, 
while she told how her husband and father had 
paid for all the furniture, and only owed one thou- 
sand dollars on the house; how he could soon settle 
that with his four dollars a day for wages and Stan- 
ley’s twenty-five dollars a month for board. 

^^It is only a few weeks now until Christmas,” 
Irene said, after listening to the sage calculations of 
the thrifty little housewife, and I will aid you in 
giving your husband a pleasant surprise on that 
day.” 

“ How so?” Jean asked. 

If you will give me the name of the man who 
holds the notes against your husband I will have 
them bought up, so you can slip them under his 
plate Christmas morning.” 

Are you in earnest ?” the little wife cried, with 
wide-open eyes. 

Yes.” 

How good of you ! How happy one must be 
when they are able to do as they like!” Jean an- 
swered, simply. 

^^I would gladly exchange places with you, my 

dear child, if — if ” A sigh stifled the remainder 

of the sentence ; and as the sympathetic Jean kissed 
her hand, she drew her into another room. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


225 


The moment Irene saw the elegant dressing-case, 
the jaunty smoking-cap, and the richly-bound vol- 
umes stacked upon the table, she knew this was 
Stanley’s room ; and as she stood with the soft color 
playing through her rounded cheek, Jean said, — 

He must have been very wealthy at one time, 
for everything belonging to him is of the finest. I 
keep his clothes in order and go through all his 
trunks, and you cannot imagine all the rich, pretty 
things they contain. Has he ever told you his 
history ?” 

Receiving no answer to this question, Jean turned 
and saw Irene standing with dreamy eyes before a 
cabinet-sized picture of Stanley which stood upon 
the table. And, with a mischievous smile playing 
about her lips, she withdrew to a window. 

Irene had never seen Stanley except when his 
face was animated, either lighted up with pleasure 
or darkened with passion ; but here every feature 
was in repose, and as she noted the lines of suffering 
plainly traced upon his grandly-intellectual face, a 
sharp pain trembled through her gentle bosom. 
Moving nearer, to gain a better view, another like- 
ness caught her eye. “ Can it be, can it be ?” she 
whispered, looking from the fresh, youthful face, 
with a mischievous light dancing in the dark-gray 


226 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


eyes, to the stern but still handsomer counterpart. 

Ah ! my proud, peerless king, what chalices of 
poison has not thy passionate waywardness pressed 
to thy once smiling lips !’’ Listlessly opening a 
gold-clasped album that lay before the pictures, she 
almost held her breath as two fair young faces smiled 
up at her from the pages. One was a rare and 
lovely face, with large, soft, dreamy blue eyes ; and 
after gazing long into the pure, innocent, trusting 
orbs that seemed to be pleading for her love, Irene 
read the simple word Blondine, traced beneath, and 
turned to the other. This was a bright, piquant 
face, with roguish brown eyes, raying out a saucy 
light from beneath dark, curling lashes. The tender 
smile which sprang unbidden to Irene’s lips to greet 
the pretty pouting child died away as her eye caught 
the terse pathetic words sit tibi terra levis inscribed 
beneath. God grant it !” she murmured, turning 
again to Stanley’s picture; but the next moment 
she was startled from her revery by a sharp cry 
ringing through the room. “What is it?” she 
asked, hurrying across to the window, where, with 
trembling hands, Jean was endeavoring to raise the 
sash. 

The voice reminded Jean of Irene’s presence, and 
turning she held her back, as she exclaimed, “ Miss 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


227 


Ellswaith, be calm, be firm. It is Mr. Hunting- 
don, and — they are bringing him home.’^ 

With a faint cry, Irene sprang past her to the 
window, then sank sick with fear upon trembling 
knees, as she saw a large crowd collected before the 
house, and four stalwart mechanics bearing Stanley’s 
apparently lifeless form into the yard. 

Oh, my God ! make me strong, make me 
strong !” she cried, starting to her feet, and the next 
moment, assisted by the excited Jean, she was throw- 
ing back the coverlids, drawing aside the chairs, and 
preparing the room for Stanley’s reception. 

In that moment of supreme agony Irene cared 
not how others might interpret her presence in his 
room ; and standing with clasped hands, she watched 
them silently enter and gently place his unconscious 
form upon the bed. No cry escaped her as she 
looked upon his white, set face and bloody hair ; for 
it was not the time to yield the mastery to her feel- 
ings; and, pressing through the crowd, which gave 
way in surprise, she began applying the remedies 
that were at hand. She recognized Kaines, even in 
that busy moment, by the lively description which 
Stanley had given of him, and her heart warmed to- 
wards the big-hearted fellow while witnessing his 
almost ludicrous grief. 


228 


STANLEF HUNTINGDON. 


I warned him, my God ! I told him to be more 
careful. Doctor, don’t stop. Oh, Duke, Duke, my 
poor boy, why didn’t you mind me? Doctor, don’t 
stop; save him. He’s the truest-hearted lad that 
ever lived.” 

There is plenty of hope, my good man,” the 
physician said, kindly. “ Turn these men out of 
the room. They can do no good, and he needs an 
abundance of fresh air just now.” 

“Come, boys, you hear the doctor. God bless 
you for helping me. I won’t forget it. If we 
could spare Jeaney here I would get you some 
dinner. That’s good fellows.” 

After the doctor did everything in his power and 
had taken his leave, promising to return in a couple 
of hours, Irene touched Raines on the arm and 
asked, “ How did Mr. Huntingdon receive his 
hurt?” 

“He fell from the building,” Raines answered, 
turning and seeing Irene for the first time. “ You 
see, miss,” he continued, looking at her in surprise, 
“ he frequently gets to thinking of other things 
while working on the building, and I have to 
caution him about stepping without noticing where 
he is placing his foot. To-day I sent him above, 
telling him when he started to keep his mind about 



STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


229 


him ; but before he had been up there an hour, I 
saw him draw out a nail and step backward off the 
scaffold. He is active and would have caught on 
his feet, but he struck a brace and fell head first 
on a pile of lumber. Oh, miss, it was horrible, — 
horrible ! May you never witness such an accident ! 
What did the doctor say? And why did he 
leave so soon?’^ he exclaimed, seeming to notice the 
physician’s absence for the first time. 

‘^He did all he could for the present,” Irene 
answered, ‘^and returned to his office for some in- 
struments that he will need in dressing the contu- 
sions on Mr. Huntingdon’s head.” 

‘^Does he think there is any danger?” Raines 
asked, anxiously. 

^^Not unless there are internal injuries,” Irene 
responded. He thinks Mr. Huntingdon will re- 
gain consciousness inside of two hours, and then he 
can judge the extent of his injuries.” 

It is terrible,” Raines said, feeling of Stanley’s 
pulse. Poor lad, if he were to pass away in this 
condition, I would never know where to find his 
friends.” 

^‘Has he never told you of his past?” Irene 
asked, in surprise. 

Never,” Raines answered. “Though he is 
20 


230 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


always pleasant, courteous, and obliging, he is 
strangely silent about himself. I know he is a gen- 
tleman, and a Mississippian ; that is enough. But, I 
suppose, if anything happens, I could discover his 
friends’ whereabouts by his letters and papers. Are 
you not a friend of his ?” 

Yes,” Irene answered, blushing; am Colonel 
Ellswaith’s niece. Mr. Raines, when he begins to 
exhibit signs of returning consciousness, I must 
leave, as I do not wish him to know I have been 
here; for ” 

understood you to say he was your friend,” 
Raines interrupted, looking at her in surprise. 

‘‘So you did,” Irene answered, smiling at the 
honest fellow’s generous simplicity ; “ but there are 
imperative reasons that induce me to take this 
course. Your wife will explain my presence here ; 
and from having heard Mr. Huntingdon speak so 
nobly of you, I place this implicit confidence in 
you. I will expect you to draw freely on my 
purse to supply his present needs, to conceal from 
him all knowledge of my having been here, and to 
keep me thoroughly informed of his welfare.” 

Raines looked at her a moment in puzzled si- 
lence; then slowly shaking his head, replied, “Well, 
well, you ladies and gentlemen are guided by codes 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


231 


beyond my ken ; but I suppose tliere is more in this 
than appears on the surface. As to accepting money 
for him, please excuse an ignorant fellow’s stubborn- 
ness. Duke has plenty of means for his present 
needs, and when that is exhausted my own are at 
his disposal.” 

I honor the motives that prompt this refusal,” 
Irene answered, gently ; but you will see the 
matter in a different light after talking with your 
wife.” 

Irene had been sitting smoothing the damp hair 
from Stanley’s brow; and feeling a slight quiver 
run through his frame, she turned and saw the tide 
of life was mantling in his cheeks. She drew aside 
from his range of vision as, with a faint moan, he 
stirred and slowly opened his eyes. 

After looking dazedly at Raines a moment, he felt 
of the bed and murmured, “ Where am I ? What 
has happened ?” 

‘^You are at home, Dukey, in your own bed. 
Don’t you remember falling ?” 

“ Ah, yes,” he answered, with a slight whimsical 
smile. I was in a great hurry to reach the ground.” 

It will save time, hereafter, to use the ladder,” 
Raines answered, bending over him with a glad 
laugh. How do you feel, Dukey ?” 


232 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


A faint moan was Raines’s answer, as Stanley 
attempted to turn himself in bed ; but after lying a 
few moments with closed eyes, he looked at Raines 
again and said, — 

Hasn’t some one been here, Raines ?” 

Lor’, yes, Duke^,” Raines replied. whole 
crowd. Who did you wish to see ?” 

“I don’t know,” Stanley replied, weakly; then, 
after a further silence, he carried his hand to his 
brow and said, Raines, do you believe spirits can 
return to earth ?” 

I hardly know, Dukey. Why do you ask ?” 

I thought a radiant angel stood by me, here, 
and called back my wandering spirit,” Stanley re- 
plied, slowly. tell you, old boy, I’ve been a 
long ways from here ; I have seen a brighter world 
than this ; would to God I could have remained !” 

^^We are not able to spare you yet,” Raines an- 
swered, with a catch in his voice, as he noticed 
Irene’s trembling limbs. Why will people persist 
in murdering themselves with stubbornness,” he 
mused, as he watched her terrible struggle for com- 
posure. But, obeying the imploring gesture, he 
drew Stanley’s attention to give her the opportunity 
to steal from the room. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON 


233 


CHAPTER XXIL 

I FEAR my heroine has lost caste with a multi- 
tude of my sentimental readers, who doubtless 
wished for a tragic scene and loving denouement; 
but ere you condemn her unconditionally, remember 
those royal natures, though holding during such 
supreme moments their feelings in abeyance, suffer 
in silence an agony that is undreamed of in the 
philosophy of fainting, sentimental darlings. Also, 
remember how Stanley had rudely and persistently 
ignored her flags of truce and shy ambassadors, 
and ask yourself could she have acted otherwise 
with dignity. But had you followed her to the 
lonely seclusion of her chamber, and watched the 
hopeless desolation that swept the light from her 
dusky eyes as she paced the length of her room 
through the long, dark hours of that night, your 
heart would have gone out in pitying tenderness 
for the queenly, suffering woman. Had she be- 
lieved Stanley’s love was his own, or that it was not 

entirely and irrevocably hers, she could have laid 
20 * 


234 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


her own aside and bravely faced — as many another 
noble woman has — the pitiful remnant of pleasure 
that life yet held in reserve. But, ah ! to know 
their souls were forever wedded, that their very 
pulses beat in unison, and that nothing but his 
mistaken and overweening pride held them asunder, 
was like gazing up through the blue ether at the 
glorious worlds bending above, and knowing that 
nothing but the angel of death can unseal their 
beauties to her enraptured eyes. 

There is a something so holy in the unselfish 
love of a true-hearted woman that, while witnessing 
one lavishing the wealth of her virgin heart upon 
man’s redeeming and God’s most cherished altar, I 
feel as I imagine the Jewish law-giver felt when, 
in the desert’s solitude, he heard that awful voice 
bid him cast his shoes from otf his feet. 

As the newly-disembodied spirit poises itself a 
moment, and casts a lingering glance along its back- 
ward path ere turning its awed gaze towards the 
mysterious aureola beaming beyond the dark valley 
of shadows, so the mind, facing a blighting sacri- 
fice, lovingly reviews each past scene before wander- 
ing ahead with prophetic steps to meet the hopelessly 
desolate future. And happy is the man or woman 
who, feeling that life is shorn of its expected dowry. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


235 


can rise above the rebellious blindness and fix their 
gaze upon their portion beyond the grave. 

Thus did Irene, through the lagging hours of 
that seemingly endless night, review the past few 
weeks of her life, lingering over each word, look, 
and tone that had unsealed the fountains of her 
love, only to sweep the brightness from her life, ere 
taking up the disconnected thread that spun wearily 
on to eternity. She tantalized her soul with no vain 
hopes; for, though realizing the foolish weakness 
of the unyielding pride that prompted Stanley to 
shadow both their lives rather than, by rising from 
his low position to her high estate, call forth the 
world’s favorite animadversions, she understood 
his rebellious nature so thoroughly, that she knew 
they were divided as completely as if the Pacific’s 
dark billows rolled above her grave. It was hard, 
inexpressibly hard, and dawn began to illumine the 
east before she had hushed her nature’s discontented 
murmurings and unwillingly resigned herself to 
the inevitable. 

Knowing that Raines would send tidings of Stan- 
ley’s condition immediately the world began to stir, 
Irene threw open the blinds, and, seating herself by 
the window, patiently waited until she saw the mes- 
senger coming up the walk. Then slipping down. 


236 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


without disturbing the family, she received the fol- 
lowing note at the door : 

Miss Ellswaith, — He passed the night fever- 
ishly, restlessly, frequently starting up and crying 
out in his sleep. This morning finds him burning 
with fever and wandering in his mind. The doctor 
seems troubled over the symptoms. 

Kespectfully, Jean.” 

Irene returned slowly to her room, filled with 
painful misgivings by the unexpected news this note 
contained; but, descending at the breakfast hour, 
she cheerfully bore her part in the gayeties of 
the day, while through the liveliest conversations 
rang the low moans of fevered lips, and a hand- 
some, hotly-flushed face, with wild, glittering eyes, 
haunted her through all her daily rounds. The 
longest days, however, have an ending, and at 
nightfall, among other letters, she discovered this 
laconic note : 


Miss Ellswaith, — Fever still rising. Symp- 
toms all for the worst. DoesnT know any one. 

Eespectfully, Jean.” 


STANLEY HVNTINDGON. 


237 


After a night of broken sleep, Irene received the 
following letter : 

“Miss Ellswaith, — Begin to prepare yourself 
for the worst. The doctor says Mr. Huntingdon 
cannot possibly live twenty-four hours longer in his 
present condition. The fever and his powerful ex- 
ertion during his wild struggles are rapidly ex- 
hausting him. Oh, Miss Irene ! I fear Mr. Hunt- 
ingdon has been a terribly wicked man. It is ap- 
palling to listen to his fearful blasphemy during his 
wild ravings. He is continually calling on some 
one to forgive him for what he did. One moment 
he will be smiling and uttering the softest and most 
seductive words, the next he will break into the 
harshest laughter imaginable, and seem to exult 
over some ruin he has wrought. Oh, it is horrible ! 
horrible ! You cannot conceive how horrible it is. 
As I sat last night listening at him mingle prayers 
with curses, defiance with entreaties, and scoffing at 
everything we hold to be honorable and sacred, I 
thought, what if he passed away in this condition ! 
and prayed as I never prayed before. If you ever 
see my husband, please do not let him know I have 
written you this, for I know it would seriously dis- 
please him. I told him last night I feared Mr. 


238 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


Huntingdon had been a wonderfully wicked man, 
and, frowning at me a moment, he said, ‘ If Dukey 
is a villain, it’s a pity everybody don’t turn 
villains.’ ” 

“ God bless the true-hearted fellow !” Irene mur- 
mured, her eyes filling with tears, as she laid down 
the cruelly uncalled-for letter and started to her 
feet. Walking rapidly up and down the richly- 
carpeted room a few minutes to subdue her agita- 
tion, she then continued the letter ; 

“There are three names almost always on his 
lips. One is Lena, one Blondine, and the other is 
your own. And it is pitiful to hear him cry out, 
‘ I have sinned, Blondine, I have sinned ! Ah, take 
those fond, accusing eyes from out my heart!’ This 
morning, just before day, he seemed to be falling 
into a stupor ; but, rousing up, he cried, ^ Irene, my 
peerless, my beautiful Irene ! Ah, God ! I have 
lost thee, but thine eyes have saved me !’ Then he 
rambled on in a foreign language that I could not 
understand. 

“ My husband wishes to communicate with Mr. 
Huntingdon’s friends, but is unable to do so because 
he dislikes, unless the worst comes to the worst, to 
break open a small ivory box in which Mr. Hunt- 
ingdon keeps his papers. He told me to ask you to 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


239 


come out if possible; if not, to send him word what 
you think would be right in this emergency. 

Very respectfully, Jean.^' 

Irene felt that it would be impossible to mingle 
in gay company with the contents of that letter 
chilling her bosom, and pleading indisposition, she 
remained in her room until the afternoon. Then, 
ordering a carriage, she was driven rapidly to 
Raines’s home. 

The physician was just leaving Stanley’s room as 
Irene entered ; but, on seeing her, he turned back 
with her, and said, — 

“ Mr. Huntingdon is rapidly sinking. Flesh and 
blood cannot endure the sirocco that is raging in 
his veins twelve hours longer.” 

Stanley was tossing restlessly upon the bed, 
muttering disconnected sentences; but his strength 
seemed to be too far spent to allow the wild out- 
bursts than Jean had described ; and as Irene saw 
the hot blood pulsing beneath his almost transparent 
skin, and noted the fearful ravages which the swift 
tide had already made, a thrill of despair shot 
through her bosom. 

^^Do you know me, Stanley?” she asked, bending 
gently over him. 


240 


STANLEY HUNTINChDON. 


As the low, musical tones caught his ear, the 
restless eyes became fixed upon her face, as, with a 
slow, glad smile, he exclaimed, — 

“ I am ready. Thank God ! a radiant angel is to 
be my guide.” 

She placed her cool fingers upon his throbbing 
brow, and as she did so a quiver ran through 
him, while his eager eyes searched her face more 
intently. 

Listen, Stanley,” she said, bending nearer. It 
is Irene, come to stay with you while you sleep. 
No one else shall approach you; so you can be 
quiet now and gain a much-needed rest.” 

He made no response to this, but continued 
watching her face as she smoothed the damp locks 
from his brow ; and after a few minutes spent thus, 
she saw the fiery gleam fading from his eyes as, with 
the murmured words, “ Irene — rest,” upon his lips, 
the long lashes swept lower until he drifted into a 
heavy slumber, 

Irene heard, but she heeded not Raines’s smoth- 
ered thanksgiving ; for it seemed that her very soul 
was following the sleeper’s on that shadowy, perilous 
journey from which she feared it would never re- 
turn ; and forgetting her friends would be uneasy 
over her prolonged absence, she sat through the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


241 


long hours of that night caressing Stanley’s hands, 
cooling his brow, and rousing him at intervals to 
administer the medicine prescribed. 

Leaving this lovely woman valiantly battling for 
Stanley’s life, we will turn our eyes upon a scene 
where all is consternation and confusion. Irene’s 
family and friends supposed she was out making a 
call, or shopping; but when darkness closed in 
without her return their uneasiness grew apace. The 
tea hour passing without tidings from her, they 
became so alarmed that messengers were despatched 
in all possible directions, while her name trembled 
along every wire in the city. About one o’clock 
at night, when almost in despair. Colonel Ellswaith 
heard from the carriage-driver who took a lady of 
that description to No. — , H Street ; and ac- 

companied by his wife, who beneath all her society 
polish bore a warm heart towards her husband’s 
niece, he was soon en route to Raines’s home. 

As the carriage drew up before Raines’s house, 
a tall, powerfully-built man, who resembled some 
dark old Norse king, left the small front parlor 
in which he had been restlessly pacing, and, open- 
ing the hall door, admitted the colonel and his 
wife. 

This is Colonel Ellswaith and lady,” he said, as 
21 


242 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


they looked at him in surprise; ^^and I presume 
you are uneasy about your niece/’ 

‘^We are, Mr. Alvarado,” the colonel replied, 
hastily. ^^Is she here? Is she safe?” 

‘^She is here, and she is safe,” the other re- 
sponded ; “ but for the present she cannot be 
disturbed.” 

And may I ask why ?” the colonel said, a 
suspicion of foul play crossing his mind. 

^‘Because,” the other responded, deliberately, 
^^she has just succeeded in snatching Stanley Hunt- 
ingdon from the jaws of immediate death, and must 
be allowed to complete the work so auspiciously 
begun.” 

But, sir,” the colonel’s wife interrupted, sharply, 
her fears of Madam Grundy’s tongue return- 
ing with the knowledge of Irene’s safety, ^^you 
hardly seem to realize what you are asking. We 
have come to take our niece home. Leave her in 
this questionable portion of the city, and by that 
low-born laborer’s bedside, indeed !” 

“Allow me, madam,” Stanley’s uncle answered, 
wdth an impressive .bow, “to inform you of the 
joyous fact that since you last beheld him Mr. 
Huntingdon’s blood has turned cerulean blue.” 

“ What do you mean ?” the lady asked, haughtily. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


243 


Pardon me,” the other answered, his lips curl- 
ing with a mocking sneer; perhaps I can command 
the idea within range of your comprehension by 
informing you that henceforth Mr. Huntingdon 
will only wield golden tools, — that is, he has become 
wealthy; so, discovering in this carpenter my 
nephew and heir, and knowing I am able to buy 
your husband’s wealth ten times over, will probably 
reconcile you to the idea of having your niece by 
the bedside of this quondam gentleman of the 
unwashed.” 

How can that be?” the colonel asked, looking 
at him in astonishment. I understood you were 
a Spaniard.” 

If it is the first time you ever understood what 
was false,” Stanley’s uncle replied, I will disclaim 
all relationship to this young man.” 

How long since you knew this ?” 

Since I first laid eyes upon him. That knowl- 
edge was the key that placed the intricacies of my 
amiable retreat at your mercy. But do not let me 
keep you standing all night. Here are chairs and 
sofas at your disposal, or you will find beds in 
the adjoining room should you wish to retire.” 

But, my dear sir, I wish to speak with my 
niece.” 


244 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


Your niece, ray dear sir, is, in society parlance, 
not at home this evening,” the other replied, seem- 
ing to enjoy their annoyance. ^^And, although I 
dislike to appear stubborn, I am compelled to 
ignore all proffered bribes and deny you admit- 
tance to her presence; as, at this moment, she is 
preventing a noble lad from sinking into a prema- 
ture grave. Sir, your niece is a royal creature; 
make yourself worthy of her by gracefully accept- 
ing the situation. I am aware that fear of Dame 
Grundy’s tongue is troubling you and your excel- 
lent lady ; but remember that the matrimonial 
twist can unjoint that mischievous instrument, and 
either retire for the night, sit here until daylight, 
or return home, whichever pleases your fancy best ; 
for your niece you cannot see until God makes 
known his decision concerning my nephew’s present 
destiny.” 

only ask to be allowed to speak a dozen 
words to my niece,” the colonel said, suppressing 
his rising wrath. Surely her absence from his 
side during that short length of time would not 
affect your nephew’s welfare.” 

‘^Sir, in the inscrutable bosom of Providence 
lodges the refusal of your humble request. My 
nephew’s life, according to the physician’s dictum. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


245 


depends at present upon undisturbed repose; and 
as he sleeps with your niece’s hand clasped in his, 
and begins to rave the moment she leaves his side, 
it is dangerous for her to leave him at this juncture; 
so, realizing that it is not my fault, visit your dis- 
pleasure elsewhere than upon my head. Allow me 
to remind you again of the bed that is at your 
disposal, and to rid you of my presence.” 

He left the room, closing the door softly behind 
him, and, leaning against the baluster of the stair- 
way, remained motionless until daylight began to 
stream through the transoms over the hall doors ; 
then turning, he noiselessly ascended the stairs. 
Reaching the door of Stanley’s room, which was 
standing partly ajar, he saw the physician leaning 
against the window-sill, Raines sitting with bowed 
head at the foot of the bed, and Irene seated upon 
the bed by Stanley’s side, closely watching his 
slumbers. And screening himself so as not to be 
discovered by the occupants of the room, he saw 
Stanley move restlessly, and then, slowly opening 
his eyes, gaze in puzzled wonder at Irene ; saw the 
look of unimaginable rapture that irradiated his 
face as he weakly extended his arms, and heard 
the murmured words of joy and love as their lips 
met in long, lingering kisses; and hardened as he 


246 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


was by years of sin and hate, his stern lips quivered 
with emotion, while tears extinguished the dark 
gleam of his baleful eyes. He saw the physician 
hurry forward, and, feeling of Stanley’s pulse, 
swiftly administer a soothing potion; saw Stanley 
smile faintly at Raines, who was blubbering for very 
joy; saw him throw his arm about Irene’s neck, 
draw her loving and dewy lips to his, press her 
soft cheek against his own, and then drift again into 
dreamland. 

Calling the two men from the room, he learned 
from the physician that the crisis had passed, and 
that Stanley was safe ; then drawing Raines down 
the stairs, he placed a roll of bank-notes in his hand, 
and said, — 

“ As Stanley is safe now, I will return home and 
stay there until he is strong enough to receive me. 
Pay all his expenses with that money, and keep the 
fact of my having been here from his knowledge. 
Colonel Ellswaith and wife are in the parlor wait- 
ing for their niece. Go and tell her to come down. 
I will return inside of ten days.” 

Squeezing the honest fellow’s brawny hand, he 
then entered the parlor, and greeting the weary 
couple sitting there, informed them that Irene 
would be down shortly; requesting them, at the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


247 


same time, to withhold from her all knowledge 
of Stanley's good fortune until he returned. Then 
bowing himself out, he entered a carriage in wait- 
ing, and was driven rapidly to the depot. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Eight days have elapsed ; and, although Stan- 
ley’s wounds have healed and his fever has sub- 
sided, he has gained strength but slowly. This 
seems to be a very ungrateful return for the 
unremitting kindness of those surrounding him. 
But as he lies back among the pillows, looking 
worn and restless, it is easily seen that disease of 
the mind, not of the body, is sapping his slowly- 
returning vigor. 

Determined to rise, he had overruled the physi- 
cian’s objections, and, assisted by Raines, had crossed 
to the window, where he now reclines in a large, 
comfortable arm-chair, while his eyes turn impa- 
tiently up and down the street. 

Presently a carriage rolls up to the gate ; and, 
with a fresh bouquet in her hand, Irene alights and 


248 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


enters the house. He liears her light step upon the 
stairs, and turns eagerly as Jean opens his door to 
admit her. She quickly crosses the room to his 
side, and placing the flowers in his lap, bends — turn 
your face* aside, reader — and gives him his regular 
morning and afternoon prescription. 

‘^How brave we look this morning!” she said, 
with a bright smile, as Stanley, thanking her for 
the flowers, drew her to a seat by him. 

Stanley did not answer her, but playing nervously 
with her slender fingers, he said, — 

“ Irene, you have persisted in tying my tongue 
from the fear that exertion or excitement would 
cause a relapse ; but, believe me, this silent struggle, 
with thoughts that sicken me, is far more dangerous 
than unburdening my mind to you. Regardless of 
consequences, I must explain the feelings that op- 
press me ; and if I exhibit any unmanliness, I trust 
you will attribute it to my nervous and weakened 
state. 

“ I have loved you since the evening I looked 
into your eyes, while standing by that window in 
your uncle’s parlor ; and the knowledge that Stanley 
Huntingdon, the carpenter, could never wed with 
Irene Ellswaith, the heiress, prompted me to crush 
my love in its incipiency. But discovering it to be 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


249 


beyond my strength, and fearing I would betray 
my weakness, decided me, as you have probably 
suspicioned, to avoid your too magnetic presence. 
I will not linger over how I loved and what I 
suffered, for a new vocabulary would have to be 
formed ere I could adequately express the tantaliz- 
ing misery of those days. I was strong then, and 
in the solitude of the mountains I thanked God for 
the love that purified my life, and determined to 
live, so that I would be worthy to meet you where 
wealth is valueless and rank is unrecognized. But 
here,’^ he cried, breaking into the plaintive queru- 
lousness of an invalid, since discovering how fully 
you reciprocate my love, and since feeling those 
sweet lips pressed to mine, I am unequal to the task 
of following the path to which my honor points.” 

He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, and 
before he could resume, Irene said, gently, — 

Stanley, I know all that is in your mind, — all 
that you wish to urge ; but ere you exhaust your- 
self further let me relate a story. 

^^Once upon a time there lived, in France, a 
beautiful young princess, who had the misfortune to 
be caught in a burning building. And, after every 
attempt at rescue had failed, a brave soldier, at the 
imminent risk of his life, rushed through the blazing 


250 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


rooms, and, wrapping a scarf about her head, bore 
her safe to the arms of her parents. Now, in those 
days, it was death for a common mortal to touch the 
sacred person of royalty ; and her amiable parents 
had sufficient gratitude to order this brave soldier — 
covered as he was with the burns received while 
saving their daughter — to be cast into prison, to 
await his execution.’^ 

Irene smiled as Stanley looked up with puzzled 
interest, and continued : “ I see you are wondering 
what the princess thought of all this. She acted as 
any true-hearted woman should, by working and 
praying until she procured his release, and had him 
munificently rewarded. Now, Stanley,’^ she con- 
tinued, with blushing cheeks, ^^you recognize the 
wicked injustice of the laws that condemned that 
noble soldier ; you would rush into a burning build- 
ing to rescue me, if you knew it was only to perish 
with me in the flames ; you would have condemned 
that soldier had he, remembering the laws at the 
last moment, refused to touch her too sacred person 
and left her to her fate ; and yet, because of a few 
unwritten laws still more unjust; because of the 
world’s biting tongue, you turn coward and wish to 
leave me — to let me ” 


‘^‘Perish amid the flames my own eyes have 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


251 


kindled/ ’’ Stanley interrupted, with a soft laugh, as 
he drew her queenly form into his arms. I will 
rescue you, my sweet princess, from your imminent 
peril,” he continued, gently kissing the rosy lips, 
^^even though my life pays for my audacity.” 
Then, dropping his laughing tone, he said, sadly, 
I am unworthy the generous love and confidence 
you place in me ; but, God being ray helper, I will 
endeavor to prevent you from ever regretting this 
step. It shames me to remember what a pitiful 
return I can make for all that you are lavishing 
upon me; and truth compels me to acknowledge, 
did not your uncle and aunt, contrary to all prece- 
dent, seem satisfied with your deplorably sorry 
choice, I would hesitate some time before claiming 
this unparalleled sacrifice at your hands. I owe you 
not only my life, but also my very manhood ; for 
springing at one bound from a boy to a devil, a 
devil I remained until your sweet face redeemed 
me, — shamed the foul fiend from my nature, and 
led me, clothed and in my right mind, to the feet 
of my Maker.” 

Then, in low, rapid tones, he graphically por- 
trayed the bitter mistakes and sins of his past ; and 
though he felt her tremble in his arras as he showed 
the dark passages through which he had trod, he 


252 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON, 


steadily pursued the narration, tearing aside each 
veil, and holding up the dark deeds with a relent- 
less and unsparing hand. 

This, you see,” he said, in conclusion, is the 
battered wreck on which your pure young love is 
embarked ; and, believe me, Irene, had not this ac- 
cident occurred, the strength which your love had 
given me would have saved you from the shadow 
of my presence.” 

Stanley,” Irene said, raising her glorious eyes to 
his, ‘^your life has been more sinful than I sus- 
pected, but let the past bury its dead. Love and 
the present are ours ; and if some day in the future 
you can fold your arms about me, and whisper in 
the language of that noble poet, — 

‘ But now it has fallen from me : 

It lies huried in the sea,’ 

I will be the happiest wife that ever claimed a hus- 
band. Some day, ah ! some day you will under- 
stand the love that is in my heart, will know how 
your lofty, daring intellect conquered my once 
haughty mind; how your impetuous and rebellious 
spirit won the allegiance of my own, and how the 
very sins and sufferings of your past endear you to 


me. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


253 


Words were useless then : soul spoke to soul dur- 
ing that fond embrace, and all fears, doubts, and 
misgivings were swept away by the silent tide of the 
sweet communion. 


CHAPTER XXiy. 

An hour later, as Stanley lay upon the bed jest- 
ing with Raines, and Jean sat discussing momentous 
questions with Irene, a ring came at the door. 
Answering the bell, Raines returned in a few mo- 
ments accompanied by a gentleman whom Stanley 
knew to be a lawyer. 

After bowing to the other occupants of the room, 
the lawyer sat down by the bed, and addressing 
Stanley, said, — 

I fear, my dear sir, that I am the bearer of ill 
news.” And as Stanley made no reply, he con- 
tinued : “ It is my heavy duty to inform you that 
your uncle, Guy Huntingdon, is no more.” 

^^Dead!” Stanley cried, starting up in bed. 'im- 
possible !” 

"He was found sitting lifeless upon a sofa at 
22 


254 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


daybreak this morning,” the other continued, with 
lawyer-like regularity. 

May God pity his unprepared soul !” Stanley 
exclaimed, thinking of the dark, sinister face he 
last saw. He completely forgot the lawyer’s pres- 
ence as his mind dwelt upon the splendid life that 
had so recklessly ignored its grand possibilities, and 
had at last, as he thought, been extinguished without 
a hope for the future; but the lawyer’s smooth tones 
soon roused him from his revery, as they said, — 

It seems that your uncle had a premonition of 
his approaching dissolution, for yesterday morning 
I received a hasty note urging me to come out to 
his house immediately. I obeyed the summons, and 
spent the afternoon of yesterday preparing his papers. 
He prevailed upon me to spend the night with him, 
and about twelve o’clock last night came to my 
room with this letter, which I promised to deliver 
into your hands.” 

Handing the letter to Stanley, the lawyer rose, 
and continued : As I find you iinwell, I suppose I 
will have to defer the reading of the will until you 
are able to come down.” 

‘^Is my presence necessary?” Stanley asked, 
dazedly. 

“ You are his kinsman,” the lawyer answered. 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


255 


simply. “This is my card. Telegraph when you 
are able to come. Good-day.” 

When the lawyer departed, Stanley gave the let- 
ter to Irene, and, drawing her chair to the bed, she 
broke the seal and read the following lines : 

“ ^ Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
peace, good will toward men.’ 

“My dear Stanley, — Thirty-six hours ago 
I hardly dreamed those words could find an echo in 
my bosom ; but at this moment, like a grand dia- 
pason, they swell through all my soul, filling me 
with peace and joy unutterable. Hearken to my 
story. 

“ Of late years it has been a custom of mine to 
spend a portion of each night in the room we occu- 
pied the evening I discovered myself to you, — the 
room which contains my pictures and treasures; 
and while sitting as usual late last night before the 
picture of her who claimed the love of my youth, 
my mind began to dwell upon the hara&sing mys- 
teries and horrible uncertainties of this life. 

How long I thus sat I know not, roaming through fields of 
the past, 

Thinking of the hopes of mortals and the dreams that never 
last ; 


256 STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 

When it seemed that the room was filled with a soft and 
silvery light, 

Which raised and drifted the shadows out into the darkness 
of night. 

As the subdued aureola diffused its silvery beams 
throughout the room, I turned my head and saw 
my lost darling standing in all her radiant loveli- 
ness by the window. And as I sat ravished of all 
power of volition, gazing like one in a delightful 
trance, she turned her angel eyes upon me, and, 
gliding to my side, she pronounced my name as her 
hand softly caressed my cheek. The wild rush of 
rapturous feeling loosed my tongue, and with a glad 
cry I exclaimed, ‘ Cora, Cora, my loved one, it is 
true, God be praised !’ She understood my mean- 
ing, and moving back with a smile of ineffable 
sweetness, she answered, ‘ It is, and I have remem- 
bered my promise. Prepare thyself, for after an- 
other night we will meet to part no more.’ Raising 
her hands above my head in silent blessing, she 
then glided to the door, and, turning her sweet eyes 
upon me, pointed upwards, and vanished from my 
sight. Imagine, if possible, the unimaginable; futile 
is the attempt to describe the indescribable. 

The first thanksgiving that leaped from my heart 
was human and all unworthy. I gloried in the 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


257 


thought of having lived u neon ta ruinated by woman’s 
touch, and being thus enabled to meet her as pure 
as her own virgin bosom. But, ah ! as I realized 
the infinite compassion of Him who, pardoning my 
sinful and rebellious life, crowned its end with a 
glory inconceivable, my heart was awed into hum- 
bleness; and sinking upon my knees, I grovelled 
in thankfulness and contrition beneath the thickly- 
showering mercies, until my soul caught the whis- 
pered words. It is well. 

“ It is sweet to think, as I pen these words, her 
angel form, like a shooting-star, is hastening on 
eager pinions from its flowery home to bear my 
fainting soul to the footstool of a merciful Father; 
and the only shadow upon me is the thought that I 
have not time to proclaim in trumpet tones on the 
highway and from the house-tops His inexhaustible 
love and mercy for my blindly-groping brothers. 

^‘Now, Stanley, my noble-hearted lad, Raines 
will tell you I was by your bedside during your 
fever; and knowing this, and knowing the spirit 
that prompts my confessions is staying its flight 
to eternity until they are uttered, will constrain you 
to believe me when I say my rude treatment of you 
was the mere trial of your sterling qualities. Had 

you agreed to turn from the love of Irene and 
22 * 


258 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


accept the wealth of my ward, I would have 
spurned you from me with contempt; but when 
you answered my ignoble oifer with those loving, 
manful words, I rejoiced over the incorruptible 
spirit that I had discovered. You probably wonder 
why I drove you from me with such bitter taunts. 
I had been deceived by hundreds, who on the first 
trial seemed to be all that I could ask, and I de- 
termined to put a severe test upon you, — determined 
to arouse your wrath, make you believe me un- 
W’orthy your respect, and then see if you would 
fawn upon me to receive Irene and wealth at my 
hands; but your courteous reply to my letter an- 
swered my expectations and proved the innate 
nobility of your spirit. 

witnessed the tender passages between your- 
self and Irene the morning you woke in your right 
mind. May Heaven prosper your loves! I ex- 
pected to have the pleasure of witnessing your 
nuptials, but it cannot be; yet she and I, standing 
together in peace and joy above, will look down 
upon your peace and love below. 

“ You will find my will sets one million dollars 
aside for Ryene^s marriage portion. She and Law- 
rence Hamilton will marry in three months from 
yesterday. The remaining property, this place, and 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


259 


another in the southern part of the valley, with 
three million dollars in money, bonds, etc., goes to 
yourself. 

‘‘ With many blessings for you and the peerless 
woman who claims your love, I am, my dear boy, 
your loving uncle, 

^‘Guy Huntingdon.” 

Silence succeeded the reading of this letter, until, 
rising from the bed, Stanley drew Irene into his 
arms, as he said, — 

I cannot grieve for the spirit which has joined 
its loved one where the ^ wicked cease from troub- 
ling and the weary are at rest / but, would to God 
I had known the grandeur of his soul ere the grave 
shut him from my sight ! Uncle, I wronged you ; 
but you see my bosom now.” 

Tell me his history, Stanley,” Irene said, hiding 
her dewy eyes in his bosom. 

After Stanley, in simple, touching words, related 
the bitter deception that desolated his uncle’s life, 
Irene’s arms stole about his neck, as she mur- 
mured, — 

As I become more fully acquainted with your 
noble but wayward nature, and discover the chiv- 
alric race from which you sprung, I pray God to 


260 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


make me wiser and more worthy the trust He 
placed in me when giving me your love.” 

/^That reminds me,” Stanley said, drawing her 
closer to him. ‘^To-day has showered rich bless- 
ings upon me; but the richest is yet to co'me. 
When may I claim you altogether ?” 

Whenever it is your wish,” she answered. 

“ In that case, I fear you would be compelled to 
bid farewell to your prospective trousseau , he said, 
smiling, and kissing the tender lips. “ But I will 
allow you thirty days in which to worry the milli- 
ners.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

All aboard !” The bell strikes, and, my dear 
reader, you and I, standing upon the platform of 
an elegant Pullman sleeper, are whirled out of 
Oakland, and roll southward through the famous 
San Joaquin valley. Stop peeping in at that door, 
will you ? and turn your eyes over the level sweep 
of this populous valley, and along the romantic 
scenery of those majestic hills. See, we are hurrying 
across the Mojava Desert, with tier on tier of hills to 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


261 


the left, and range on range of sand mountains to 
the right. Ah ! here we are shrieking through 
tunnels, and shaking hands with the engineer 
around these horse-shoe gorges. Keep away from 
that door ! you shall not see them. Just like all 
mankind, you turn away from Mother Nature to 
watch the antics of her babes. Now we have made 
the loop, and rolling down into Fort Yuma, we 
leave the sleepy-looking Indians to bask their 
wealth of nakedness in the tropical sunshine, and 
hurry on across Arizonian deserts, with nothing 
but a few lonesome-looking cacti to disturb the 
monotony of the scene. Change cars for Fort 
Worth, and leaving the adobe buildings of El 
Paso, we roll up through Texas and prairie-dog 
villages (or rather cities, if size governs nomencla- 
ture). Matters are becoming more interesting now, 
you see, for at every other town a cowboy or two, 
with his belt filled with pistols, his head with space, 
and his heart with liquorish bravado, swaggers into 
the car and bullies the unfortunate tenderfoot into 
an abject collapse. Eece homo ! Keep away from 
that door ! or I will throw you out into one of these 
Arkansas frog ranches. Here we are at the Father 
of Waters, looking across at the innumerable lights 
gleaming over the Bluff City. Hail to thee, Mem- 


262 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


phis! mayest thou flourish like Jonah’s gourd till 
the end of time ! But we are not at our destination 
yet, although we have made the quickest trip on 
record. This is the depot. Stand aside there and 
let that couple pass. See how tenderly he assists 
her down the steps, and guides her through the 
crowd to a carriage. See the sweet, holy light 
lurking in the depths of her dark, beautiful eyes, 
as she turns them in thanks upon her noble-looking 
young husband. O love, thou radiant angel, why 
let one forlorn heart wander in the cold gray dawn 
of a loveless day ? Why not enroll all human cre- 
ation in the blushing ranks of thy interesting and 
unselfish votaries? When I desert thy standard, 
open thou the gates of my grave 1” 

We are off again, whirling over the wide, rolling 
hills of Mississippi; passing sleepy stations, cotton- 
fields, creeks, bayous, and dark stretches of forest, 
until, with a shriek and a quiver, the car pauses 
at the neat little village of B . 

‘^My son, my dear son!” This cry rings out 
joyously, as a tall, white-haired old lady steps 
forward and folds a young man to her motherly 
bosom. 

I have brought you a daughter also, my dear 
mother. Will you not welcome her ?” 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


263 


‘‘ I would be an unnatural mother, indeed, if I 
refused to welcome one who nursed my boy back to 
life,” the old lady said, folding the beautiful bride 
in her arms. 

Walking between her two children, the happy 
mother conducts them to an elegant residence on 
the outskirts of the small village, where a host of 
friends soon throng to welcome the returned wan- 
derer and his lovely bride. It is a Southern wel- 
come, — famous the wide world over, — warm as her 
genial clime, generous as her bountiful soil. 

Three hours later the young couple, escaping 
from their friends, steal off through a shady, se- 
cluded lane that leads to a modest little church 
and parsonage. 

Irene,” the young man is saying, as they walk 
along, ^^I find myself a stranger in my own land, 
and the change is in myself alone. I have trod 
this very lane a hundred times in the past, yet, 
in looking on the once familiar scenes, it seems 
that I am gazing across the lapse of centuries. I 
left here poor, bitter, hopeless, and sinful; feeling 
as I imagine Cain felt when, receiving the mark 
upon his brow, he turned his steps, a vagabond and 
a fugitive throughout the earth. I return blessed 
with riches, blessed with a loved and loving wife, 


264 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


and blessed with the hope that God has pardoned 
my numberless sins.” 

Thus Stanley communed with his beautiful bride, 
unfolding all his hopes, aspirations, and philan- 
thropical schemes of the future, until they reached 
the parsonage. It was a pleasant afternoon, and as 
they glanced through the door, opened to receive 
the rays of the sinking sun, they saw a fair young 
mother bending over a cradle, smiling at the prat- 
tling child. 

« Blondine !” 

The voice rang softly through the room; and 
turning, the young mother caught her breath as 
she saw the well-known figure standing upon the 
threshold ; but the next moment a rush of pleasure 
swept the pallor from her cheeks, and springing 
forward with his name upon her lips, she caught 
both his hands in hers; then looking earnestly 
into his eyes she read the history they bore, and 
murmured, Thank God I see you thus !” 

Irene could restrain her tears no longer, when 
she heard those sweet, unselfish words, and step- 
ping forward with Blondine, my sweet sister,” upon 
her lips, she caught the young mother in her arms 
and kissed the pure, innocent lips. Irene was not 
usually of a demonstrative nature, but when she 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


265 


looked down into the tender, trusting face pressed 
against her bosom, and remembered all that she had 
suffered in order to reclaim Stanley from his evil 
ways, every fibre in her queenly being thrilled with 
emotion, and, kissing the trembling lips again, she 
whispered, — 

“ I know all, my sweet sister, and, oh ! the ser- 
vice of a lifetime cannot absolve the debt I owe 
you.” 

A blush dyed Blondine’s cheeks at these words, 
and, raising her soft eyes, she looked intently 
at the matchless beauty of the other, as she 
said, — 

‘^When I heard he was to be married I felt 
uneasy for his future, but since seeing you I am 
satisfied, for I now know he has found the one 
woman God intended for him.” 

Irene turned and discovered that Stanley was not 
in the room. “ Where is he ?” she asked, looking 
at Blondine. 

I saw him going towards the cemetery,” Blon- 
dine answered. 

While the two young wives play with Ollie, 
Blondine’s baby boy, we will follow Stanley’s steps 
to the cemetery, where Lena, his youthful love, 

rests beneath the green sod. He had passed and 
23 


266 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


repassed that spot hundreds of times in the old 
days, but, while her name was fraught with such 
bitter associations, he had persistently avoided its 
sight. Now, however, while standing by the lowly 
mound, reading the simple words chiselled on the 
marble slab, nothing but sorrow for the untimely 
fate of the merry-eyed child stirred his bosom. But 
as he stood leaning pensively against the headstone, 
his mind mirrored her sweet face turned towards 
him as the soft brown eyes dreamily watched him 
leave the boat, and a twinge something like those 
that had driven him to the border-land of ruin and 
death shot through his bosom. Dropping upon his 
knees and leaning his head against the cold stone, 
he was pouring out his soul in prayer when a 
strangled moan smote upon his ear ; starting to his 
feet, he turned and saw a wild, haggard face, lit up 
with hollow, burning black eyes, peering at him 
across the iron railings. 

^^So,” the apparition said, moving aside and 
revealing the farm of a young woman, I find 
Stanley Huntingdon still true to his old love.’^ 

Who are you?’^ Stanley asked, moving towards 

her. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! how flattering to have old friends 
forget you 1^’ 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


267 


‘^Susy Clenny!’’ Stanley cried, looking at her 
more closely. My God ! is it possible ?” 

“ Ay, it is possible,’^ the other answered, bitterly. 

My heart has eaten away my life above the grave 
at which you were kneeling.^’ 

And did you love her so well ?’’ Stanley asked, 
softly. 

“Love her? ha! ha! I loved her so well that I 
buried her there, and the fangs of remorse are 
revenging her injuries.” ^ 

“ What do you mean ?” Stanley asked, his heart 
sinking at the sinister words. 

“I suppose you remember the letter that drove 
you from home ?” she asked, recklessly. 

“Ido.” 

“It was a forgery, gotten up between Jasper 
Hewlitt and myself. That little chit loved no 
one but you, and the letter she received as com- 
ing from you killed her, — killed her and slew 
my peace of mind; but, oh, my God, I never 
dreamed it would kill her!” the unhappy woman 
wailed. 

“Why did you do this?” Stanley asked, in low, 
tense tones. 

“Jasper Hewlitt hated you and loved her; I 
hated her and — and — wished to separate you.” 


268 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


“ Where is Hewlitt now Stanley asked, curtly, 
a steely glitter leaping to his eyes. 

Turning and pointing to a fresh mound, Susy 
said, ‘‘He lies there, where I will be ere many 
weeks.” 

“May your remorse be your winding-sheet!” 
Stanley said, harshly, as he turned away; but 
catching the hollow moan that followed him, his 
conscience smote him, and returning to the grovelling 
woman, he said, kindly, — 

“ Susy, you ruined that innocent child and 
blackened my life with sin, but may God forgive 
you freely as I do at this moment. It is useless 
to spend your moans by this grave. Go, cast your- 
self at the foot of the cross, and cling there until 
the angel of peace raises you up.” 

Leaving the stricken woman crouching in the 
path, Stanley walked slowly towards the parsonage. 
Irene had been watching for his appearance, and 
on seeing him leave the cemetery she came to meet 
him. 

“ What is it, Stanley ?” she asked, gently, as she 
noted his pale face. 

“ I heard that child was true to me, and it has 
unnerved me,” he answered. Then dropping his 
arm about her rounded waist, he continued : “ I very 


STANLEY HUNTINGDON. 


269 


nearly said, ‘ By what subtile threads hang the 
human destiny, for a word, a look, or the stroke of 
a pen changes the current of a life f but in glancing 
back along the intricate path I have trod, I rec- 
ognize the hand of God in each seeming accident 
that guided me to you, my true, my beautiful 
wife.” 


THE END. 


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